The Wistful Witness
The ink was still wet when Thomas Ashworth realized he had signed his own obituary. It was not a metaphor, though in the sterile, air-conditioned silence of the archive room, it felt less like a legal document and more like a spell. He looked up from the desk, where the heavy sheaf of paper lay abandoned, its edges curling slightly in the dry heat, and met the eyes of Mr. Silas Vane, the Head...
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