The Wistful Dinner
The road is a scar of red earth stretching out into the gloom, and you are walking it with the heavy, rhythmic drag of your own boots. The air tastes of wet stone and old iron. You are a finder of things, a man whose eyes are trained to see what others ignore, a detective of the mundane and the miraculous alike. Your name is Elias, though you have forgotten it in the last few days. All you...
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