The Distant Joke
The dream was not of darkness, as one might expect from a man who had spent the last three decades standing in the shadow of the law, but of a vast, silent field of white wool, stretching out to a horizon that shimmered with the heat of a sun that had long since set, and in this dream, Thomas Bradshaw wore a coat that was woven from the very substance of his own memory, a garment so heavy with...
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