The Wistful Voyage
The rain in Ostend does not fall; it hangs, a gray curtain that blurs the line between the harbor and the sky. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior customs inspector whose hands have begun to betray the precision required of your trade. The tremor is subtle, a fine vibration in the fingers that makes the pen slip on the ledger, but you know it is the beginning of the end. You want your...
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