The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 03:52:18 -

The dust had settled so thickly that the sky above the bridge toll looked like a bruised plum, swollen and dim. Tadhg Halloran stood by the railing, watching the water below, which was the color of slate and moved with a sluggish, heavy rhythm. He was forty years old, and his hands, usually steady enough to copy the finest script, trembled as he adjusted the strap of his satchel. He had come to...

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