The Distant Summer
The train slowed as it entered the valley, the iron wheels shrieking against the rails in a sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of your bones, and you, Arthur Vane, sat rigid in the corner of the carriage, clutching your briefcase with a grip that whitened your knuckles, watching the town of Oakhaven emerge from the morning haze like a wound opening in the green flesh of the hills. You...
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