The Distant Joke
The road to the Abbey of St. Cuthbert is long and red with clay. You walk it in the rain. Your boots are heavy. They suck at the mud with a wet, tearing sound. You carry nothing but your satchel. Inside the satchel is the ledger. It is thick. It is bound in black leather. The leather is cracked. The pages are stained with wine and sweat and time. You are not a monk. You are a clerk. You are an...
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