The Faded Frontier
The separation from the town was not a choice but a necessity, for the ink on Elias Thorne’s hands had begun to itch like a second skin. He stood on the edge of Oakhaven, watching the last of the autumn light bleed into the grey mud of the main street, where the names of the residents were written in the cobblestones. His wife, Clara, had been one of them. Her name, once bold and black, was now...
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