The Distant Machine
The letter was found in the drawer. It was dated three years prior. The ink had faded. The paper was yellow. Thomas held it up. The light caught the edge. He read the first line. He read it again. The room was silent. The dust motes danced. They moved in slow circles. Like tiny stars. Or maybe flies. It did not matter. The air was still. The clock on the wall ticked. Tick. Tick. Tick. Each...
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