The Distant Joke
The cough that breaks your ribs is not a sound of pain but of surrender, a wet, tearing noise that echoes in the empty constable’s office as you press a handkerchief to your lips and watch the rust-brown stain spread across the white linen. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, and you have spent the last decade of your life enforcing the quiet order of Oakhaven, a city built on stone and...
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