The Distant Threshold
The fire started in the chimney, which is a strange place for a fire to begin, given that the chimney is meant to contain them. It was not a violent blaze, not at first. It was a slow, gray exhale, a settling of ash that turned to ember in the dark throat of the house. I was sitting in the study, the room that smelled of stale tobacco and the particular, dusty silence of old money, when the...
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