The Distant Blade
The rain in Oakhaven does not fall; it hangs, a grey curtain that blurs the edge of the world and softens the sound of the town’s slow decay. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, the sheriff of a place that feels less like a community and more like a wound that refuses to close, and my hands are currently trembling over a ledger that details the final, crushing weight of my mother’s mortgage. The bank...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews