The Faded Dust
The train from the city arrived in Oakhaven with a shriek of steam that sounded like a dying animal, and Elias Thorne stepped onto the platform with his valise in hand and a purpose that felt harder than the iron rails beneath his feet. It was October, 1924, and the air smelled of coal smoke and wet wool. He was thirty-two, a man of few words and precise habits, but his hands trembled as he...
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