The Distant Nightmare
The fen country stretched wide as a bruised sea under the returning ice, a landscape of rusted midwest bones where the wind took the shallow roofs and left only the foundations to stand witness. In the last licensed newsroom of the district, where the air scrubber filter was overdue and coughed up gray dust, June Hutchins clutched a withered oak branch banded in iron. He was a clerk, a...
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