The Distant Summer
The ledger shows forty-two hours of continuous observation, a figure I have circled in red ink because the Bureau’s regulations do not account for the time it takes to watch a river that refuses to flow. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, and I have spent the last six weeks in this watchtower on the border of the Wexford marshes, documenting a spectral figure that appears only to those...
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