The Distant Wound
The red coat is in your drawer. It is folded neatly, the mud dried into a crust that flakes off onto the white desk when you shift it. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, and you are a Compliance Auditor for the Ministry of Domestic Harmony. You do not look at the coat. You look at the screen. The biometric monitor in the corner of your office hums, a low, steady drone that tracks your heart rate,...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews