The Distant Legend
The archive smelled of damp plaster and old ink. It was a smell that settled in the throat, a dry, dusty ache that never quite left. We worked in the lower levels of the Municipal Records Office, a building that had stood on the edge of the river since the turn of the century. The walls were thick. They held the heat in summer and the cold in winter. They held more than that, too. They held the...
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