The Distant Joke
The rain had been falling for three days, a relentless, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the world and turned the ancient, moss-eaten stones of the village into soft, indistinct smudges, and I stood in the doorway of my small, drafty cottage, holding the heavy, iron-bound ledger in my hands, feeling the cold seep through the wool of my coat and into the very marrow of my bones, while the...
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