The Distant Summer
The river in Oakhaven did not merely flow; it hummed, a low, resonant thrum that vibrated in the teeth of anyone who lived within a mile of the Thorne & Sons Mill. Arthur Vane, a junior clerk of thirty years with ink-stained cuffs and a mind sharpened by necessity, sat at his desk in the county office, staring at the promotion notice pinned to the corkboard. The position of Senior Inspector was...
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