The Distant Joke
The pencil tip snapped against the legal pad, a small, sharp crack that sounded like a bone breaking in the quiet of the sheriff’s office, and Elias Thorne stared at the white gap where the lead had been, his thumb pressing down on the paper to keep it from sliding off the desk as the fog pressed against the windowpane with a wet, insistent weight. He was forty years old, and his hands, which...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews