The Golden Visit
The rain fell on the village of Oakhaven like a grey shroud. It was a thick, wet thing. It soaked the cobblestones. It seeped into the bones of the old houses. Thomas stood at the window. He watched the water run. His hand rested on the sill. The wood was cold. It was smooth. It wore away under his touch. He had touched it for three years. He had worn it smooth. He was the investigator. He...
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