The Distant Wound
The gate was rusted shut, but the smell of hot iron and ozone hit Elias before the sight of the demolition crew did. He leaned against the ironwork, his shoulder blade grinding against the cold metal, and waited for the men to notice him. They were three, wearing the grey coats of the Municipal Enforcement, their boots caked in the black sludge of the Oakhaven streets. One of them, a thin man...
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