The Distant Ghost
The van idled in the rain. Steam curled from the engine block, a white ghost dissolving into the grey morning. Elias sat inside. He watched the wipers beat a rhythmic, futile time against the glass. They moved left. Right. Left. Right. A mechanical prayer for clarity. The shop was gone. It had been a fixture for forty years. The sign was rusted away. The windows were boarded up. But Elias still...
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