The Distant Machine
The rain did not fall so much as it was extracted from the sky, a persistent, grey liquid that slicked the asphalt of the rural highway in a sheen that reflected nothing but the headlights of the trucks passing in the opposite direction, blinding and indifferent. Elias Vane sat in the driver’s seat of his rusted pickup, his hands wrapped around the steering wheel with a grip that had turned his...
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