The Distant Cartograph
The water tastes of pennies and rust, and you are letting it ruin my pension." I stood in the Mayor’s office, the smell of stale coffee and damp wool hanging heavy in the air. Mayor Halloway did not look up from the ledger on his desk. He was a large man, his suit tailored to hide the softness of his midsection, and he treated me the way one treats a leaky faucet: with a mix of annoyance and...
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