The Distant Summer

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2026-08-21 09:52:15 -

The wool is thick against your cheek, a coarse friction that feels less like fabric and more like the skin of a living thing. You lie in the narrow bed of the cellar, the stone walls weeping with the damp of the autumn rain, and you listen to the silence of the village of Oakhaven. It is a heavy silence, the kind that settles in the lungs and refuses to exhale. You are a tinker, a mender of...

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