The Wistful Witness
"Look at him, Thomas," said the Captain, his voice dry as old parchment. "The ink is still wet. It never dries. That is the trick. You think you are watching a stain. You are watching a life." I looked down at the desk. The parchment lay flat under the heavy brass lamp. The words were black and sharp. They were my words. Or they were the words of the man who had been me, three days ago, before...
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