The Distant Legend
I was scrubbing the calcium buildup from the pool at the house on seventy-one of Stonecutter Alley when the phone rang in the kitchen, a shrill, electric complaint that cut through the low hum of the filtration system and the distant, rhythmic cooing of the dovecote on the roof. My hands were raw and white-knuckled, the chemical stinging the small nicks in my palms, and I ignored the call...
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