The Distant Threshold
The morning Elias Thorne woke, the air in the bedroom tasted of ozone and old paper, a scent that had become inextricably linked to his wife Mara’s presence over their twenty years together, but today it was thick, cloying, and wrong. He sat up, the sheets twisted around his waist, and saw that Mara was not sleeping but still, her face turned toward the window where the early light of the city...
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