Narrow grooves, half worn away, formed a pattern on one side. The thing was cool in my palm, heavier than you'd expect. 'He gave it to me to bring home to my daughter's young fella mad into the old archaeology, he is.' 'Found it in the muck on his boot, at the tea break,' the man said. 'An arrowhead, maybe, or part of a pendant.' He had tried to clean it up, but it was still patched with small, hard encrustations of earth. One end was jagged: it had snapped off something, a long time ago. It was leaf-shaped, flat and narrow and about as long as my thumb, made of some smooth metal coated matte black with age. ![]() He went through his pockets, working from the bottom up, and pulled something out from under his vest. "'.One of the lads found this, earlier,' he said. I think it is, and everyone's been too thick to catch on. ![]() ![]() So everyone's complaining about the ending and how the 1984 mystery isn't solved.
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