The Faded Photograph
The survey report lay on the kitchen table, its edges soft and white from being handled too much. Elias picked it up, the paper heavy with the damp of the cellar where it had been stored, and ran his thumb over the ink that had begun to bleed. It was a list of coordinates, a map of the creek that ran through the town of Blackwood, and it was unfinished. His father had died three years ago,...
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