The Distant Affair
The letter sat on the table like a dead insect, its edges curled and brown, the ink faded to a ghostly violet that no longer held any meaning you could decipher. You stared at it, your hands trembling not with fear but with a strange, hollow relief, as if the weight of the words had finally been lifted from your shoulders. You had lived in this small, fog-choked town for three years, three...
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