The Distant Joke

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2026-08-21 21:30:04 -

The Distant Joke

The stone was cold in Thomas’s hand. It was a fist-sized chunk of granite, black and rough, pulled from the foundation of the ruined chapel. He sat alone in the nave, the roof long since caved in to let the rain and the starlight in. The walls were crumbling, their mortar dissolving into the mud. This was the structure he held. It was not a building. It was a memory of a building. Thomas was a...

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