The Wistful Witness

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 17:40:46 -

The trowel felt heavy in my hand, its steel edge dull against the mortar, a piece of iron that had seen too much labor and too little rest. I was forty-two, and my knuckles were swollen with the damp cold that seeped into the bones of Oakhaven, a town that seemed to exist in a perpetual state of twilight. The parish hall stood before me, a skeleton of timber and stone, its roof stripped away to...

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