The Distant Joke
The clock in the hallway has not stopped, yet I feel the air around it has thickened, turning viscous and cold, as if the room itself is holding its breath in anticipation of a verdict that has already been rendered. I am standing at the window of the study, looking out over the grey expanse of the moor that stretches beyond the estate’s crumbling walls, and I can see the fog rolling in from...
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