The Distant Affair
The charcoal stick snapped against the page, leaving a jagged, black scar that Elias Thorne stared at with the cold, detached precision of a man inspecting a structural failure in a bridge he had built. He was fifty-two, and his left eye, the one that had always been weaker, had begun to cloud over like a windowpane in a freezing house, turning the sharp lines of the topography into soft,...
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