The Distant Promise
The rain had not stopped in three days. It drummed against the slate roof of the house on Holloway Street, a relentless, wet percussion that matched the hollow thud in Caleb’s chest. He sat at the kitchen table. The wood was scarred. He ran his thumb over the gouges, the deep lines where a knife had slipped, or perhaps where a hand had struck in anger. It did not matter. The wood held the...
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