The Distant Nightmare
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that turned the cobblestones of Millhaven into slick mirrors reflecting the soot-stained brick of the textile mills. I packed my suitcase with the mechanical precision of a man who has long since stopped believing in the power of objects to hold meaning. The box, however, resisted. It sat in the center of the bedroom, a...
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