The Distant Summer
The cold in the Oakhaven municipal archive did not come from the heating system, which had been broken since the previous winter, but from the stacks themselves, a specific, biting chill that seemed to emanate from the leather-bound ledgers of the 1910s. Elias Thorne, thirty years old and possessing the brittle, polished arrogance of a man who believed his intellect was his only currency,...
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