The Distant Joke

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2026-08-22 01:35:20 -

The Distant Joke

The rain in Harrow’s End does not fall so much as it hangs, a cold gray curtain that blurs the edges of the town square and the stone facade of the municipal building. I stand in the center of the wet asphalt, my coat heavy with water, my voice raw from shouting at the locked doors. Mayor Galloway is inside, surrounded by the council, and I am outside, a forty-two-year-old man with the eyes of...

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