The Distant Metropolis
Elias Thorne. The name was called out by the town clerk, a thin man with a clipboard that clattered like dry bones, as Elias stepped off the bus into the damp chill of Oakhaven. It was not a welcome, but a summons, and Elias, whose left hand had begun to ache with the persistent, grinding throb of arthritis that morning, adjusted his leather satchel and walked toward the town square. He was...
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