The Distant Affair
The fog had settled into the marrow of the stone walls, a persistent, damp mist that clung to the ancient spires of the University of St. Jude’s, making the air taste of wet chalk and forgotten centuries. I sat in my office, the heavy oak desk before me cluttered with manuscripts that smelled of vanilla and decay, the scent of paper slowly surrendering to time. Outside, the bells tolled the...
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