The Distant Cartograph
The archive in the basement of the municipal library smelled of damp cardboard and the slow, inevitable decay of paper, a scent that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the particular flavor of his own guilt, a scent that clung to his clothes and his skin long after he had washed and scrubbed, a smell that served as a constant, physical reminder of the secrets he had buried beneath the...
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