The Distant Summer
The rain had not stopped for three days, a grey, industrial drizzle that turned the cobblestones of the foundry district into a slick, black mirror. Elias Thorne stood by the window of the upper floor, his hand resting on the cold iron of the sill. He did not look out at the street. He looked at his own reflection in the glass, a face carved from stone and silence, where the lines around the...
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