The Distant Affair

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 23:09:55 -

The ink dried black. I watched it spread. A stain on the parchment. Not a word. Just a blot. The room smelled of wax. And cold iron. I sat at the desk. The oak was rough. My fingers trembled. I was a scribe. A minor one. In the Hall of Records. The air was thick. Dust motes danced. In the slanted light. I had written a name. Thomas Bradshaw. My brother. I had written it down. As a traitor. The...

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