The Wistful Campus
The rain in Oakhaven did not wash the town clean; it only made the mud stick to the soles of Elias Thorne’s boots, a cloying, earthen weight that pulled at him with every step as he walked the narrow, unpaved streets that wound through the dense, fog-choked pines. He was forty-two years old, a sheriff by appointment and by a kind of desperate, physical hunger that had long since replaced any...
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