The Wistful Letter
"You are bleeding." The voice was low. It cut through the heavy air of the study. Elias looked up. He did not look at the woman. He looked at his hand. A dark red smear. It was on the mahogany desk. It was spreading. It looked like a bruise. It looked like a stain on a white sheet. "Is it serious?" she asked. She stood in the doorway. She held a cup of tea. The steam curled upward. It vanished...
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