The Distant Summer
The clipboard was heavy in Elara’s hands, its plastic casing cracked down the center where she had dropped it on the dock three days ago. She stood at the base of the Oakhaven Lighthouse, the salt air biting at her lungs, and looked up at the spiral of stone that rose out of the fog like a broken finger pointing at an indifferent sky. The contract on the table behind her, signed by the county...
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