The Distant Promise
The house breathed. It was a slow, rattling exhalation that moved through the floorboards, through the veins of the oak table, and into the marrow of the man who sat in the corner. Elias did not flinch. He had lived there for forty years. He knew the rhythm. He knew the weight. Outside, the rain hammered against the glass. It was a relentless, grey curtain that blurred the world into a smear of...
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