The Distant Machine
Chapter One Froukje Rietveld had a debt of forty thousand euros that predated his career, a fact that made every scrape of his brush against the pool tile feel like a personal insult. It was the first real dark of autumn, the kind that swallowed the canal town whole, leaving only the flicker of the smokehouse lights and the wet, dead reeds of the delta. He stood in the master’s backyard, the...
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