The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 08:11:36 -

The Distant Joke

The rain had stopped, leaving the world smelling of wet iron and coal dust, but the air inside the Grand Hall of the St. Jude’s Institute still felt thick, as if the stone walls were sweating out the heat of a hundred years. I sat in the back row, my hands wrapped around a cup of tea that had gone cold, watching the headmaster, Mr. Ashworth, stand at the podium. He was a small man, precise in...

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