The Distant Threshold
Chapter One "Put the chisel down," the letter said. Dolores Arellano read the page again, the ink smudged where her thumb had pressed too hard. The paper smelled of damp wool and old office dust, a scent that clung to the walls of the parish office like a second skin. She stood in the unfinished chapel, the air thick with the sharp, mineral tang of wet limestone. Outside, the wind tore at the...
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