The Distant Summer
The rain hits the glass. It is a cold, hard sound. You are still here. The office is dark. The desk is heavy. You are a scholar of the old ways. You study the stones. You know their names. You know their weight. You are leaving. The keys are in your hand. They are cold iron. You turn them in the lock. The door swings open. The hallway is long. The lights are low. You walk fast. Your heart beats...
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