The Distant Threshold
The rain in the county seat did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended grey dust that coated the windshields and the shoulders of passersby with a fine, dry film. Elias Thorne stood under the awning of the shuttered pharmacy on 4th Street, his coat collar turned up against a damp that had nothing to do with the water. He was a man who smelled of cold coffee and old paper, his eyes the...
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