The Distant Affair
In his right hand, Elias Thorne held a manila envelope, its corners softened by the damp of the courtyard, while in his left he gripped a steel thermos of black coffee that had gone cold an hour ago. The rain had stopped, leaving the Ministry of Internal Security’s central court slick and reflective, a dark mirror for the grey sky above. He stood alone, the silence of the empty space pressing...
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