The Distant Whispers
The dream was always the same: Mara’s handwriting, black ink on cream paper, curling into gray ash before my eyes. I woke with the taste of sulfur in my mouth and the sound of her voice trapped in the walls. I am Elias Thorne, a structural engineer by trade, though currently I am a man losing his house to a bank that sees only numbers and a wife who is gone but not quiet. The Whispers are not a...
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