The Wistful Mountain
The rain stopped at dawn. It left the cobblestones slick and black, reflecting the grey sky like a broken mirror. Elias stood by the window. He held the dog in his arms. The animal was small. A terrier mix. Its fur was matted with mud and dried blood. It did not bark. It did not move. It was heavy. It was warm. Elias was a constable. He wore the uniform. The fabric was stiff. It smelled of soap...
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