The Distant Affair
The key weighed four ounces, or perhaps it weighed four years, the distinction blurring in the fog that rolled off the black water of the marsh like a shroud being dragged across wet sand. Elias Thorne stood alone in the silt, his boots sinking to the ankle in a rhythm that matched the low, painful hum vibrating through the rusted iron in his hand. He was counting the seconds since Clara had...
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