The Distant Cartograph
The pencil snapped with a sound like a dry twig breaking under a boot. Elias Thorne stared at the white tip of the graphite, then at the jagged black line it had left on the paper, a vein of ink that looked too much like a crack in concrete. He held the broken piece up to the light, turning it slowly in his fingers, feeling the coldness that had started at the base of his thumb and was now...
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