The Distant Metropolis
The rain in Harrow County does not wash things clean; it only makes the dirt slicker, turning the gravel outside the jail into a slurry that sucks at your boots as you stand there, the cold seeping through your trousers and settling in your bones. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, a state trooper with twelve years on the force, and you are currently holding a ceramic owl that is...
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