The Distant Blade
The rain had stopped, leaving the courtyard of the old customs house slick and grey, reflecting the low, bruised sky. Elias stood with his hands in his pockets, watching the water drip from the eaves into the mud. The building loomed over him, a stone monolith of his father’s era, its windows dark and vacant. Behind him, the idling hum of the demolition crew’s excavators vibrated through the...
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