The Distant Machine
The letter was not a letter in the way one usually understood the term, for it lacked the rigid architecture of stationery, the crisp edge of a seal, or the polite distance of a greeting, but it was a letter in the sense that it was addressed to someone, and that someone was Maren, and it was written in ink that had dried into the grain of the paper with the permanence of a scar. She found it...
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