The Distant Summer
The rain did not fall so much as it was pressed down upon the roof of the church hall, a relentless, gray hammering that turned the world outside into a smear of mud and dying leaves, while inside, the air was thick with the cloying, sweet scent of overripe pears and the metallic tang of old sweat, a mixture that clung to the back of Callum Thorne’s throat like a physical weight, making it...
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