The Distant Nightmare
Three hours on the gravel road. That was the distance from the county line to Oakhaven, measured not in miles but in the grinding of the transmission and the silence that pressed against the truck’s windows. Elias Thorne kept his eyes on the white line, his hands steady at ten and two, though his pulse hammered a frantic, arrhythmic beat behind his ribs. He was there for the ashes. That was the...
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