The Pale Path
Chapter One Teunis Willems, thirty-four, woke with the taste of wet lime in his mouth, a flavor so sharp and alkaline it coated the back of his throat like a bad penny. He was a cross-border trucker, a man whose hands were permanently stained with diesel and whose life was measured in kilometers and fuel stops, but this morning he did not want to drive; he wanted to fix the house, specifically...
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