The Distant Crown
The oak in the university quad was dying, and Elias Thorne knew it with the same visceral certainty that a man feels the first crack in a house foundation. At fifty-four, Elias was an archivist of sorts, though his shelves held no books but the slow, rotting biology of the *Quercus robur* that stood at the center of the campus, a tree he had watched grow since his father’s death ten years...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews