The Wistful Show
The rain falls in cold sheets, turning the cobblestones of Oakhaven into a slick, grey mirror. You are Elias, forty-two years old, and your hands are wrapped in rags that have long since lost their color to the stone dust and blood. You stand before the unfinished wall of the miller’s house, the chisel biting into the granite with a rhythm that is less work and more penance. You need the coin....
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