The Wistful Show
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that turned the manicured lawns of Blackwood Estate into a spongy, muddy mire. Elias Thorne stood by the tall, leaded glass window of the library, his back to the room, watching the water streak down the pane in erratic, hurried lines. He was a large man, built by decades of physical labor and the specific, grinding kind of...
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