The Distant Summer
The black ink on Elias Thorne’s fingertips had long since ceased to be a mark of his profession and had become a permanent, topographical feature of his skin, a darkening that mirrored the creeping stain of the river mud against the limestone abutments of the Oakhaven span, a structure he had sworn to validate before the municipal council’s wrecking balls could reduce his father’s life work to...
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