The Distant Temple
The coat is too warm. You know this before you pull it from the hook. The wool is heavy, obsidian-black, and it does not reflect the fluorescent buzz of the basement archive. It absorbs it. You are Elias Thorne. You are forty-two. You have three weeks to digitize the parish records of 1924 before your contract expires. The work is simple. Scan, index, upload. But the pages are missing. The gaps...
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