The Wistful Show
The pencil tip snapped against the graph paper, a small, sharp crack that echoed in the silence of the tent, and Elias Thorne stared at the broken graphite as if it were a personal insult from the universe itself. He was thirty-two years old, a senior surveyor for the Department of Land and Survey, a man who had spent the last decade turning the wild, jagged edges of the Blackwood Range into...
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