The Distant Clue
The fire took the east wing of the municipal archive in the autumn of 2019, and it took Clara with it. I have counted the hours since then, not with a clock, but with the rhythm of the water pipes in the basement, a tick-tock that has become indistinguishable from my own pulse. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, and I have spent three years trying to convince the Historical Society that the fire was...
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