The Distant Joke

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2026-08-19 10:14:52 -

The Distant Joke

The banquet hall smelled of roasting venison and stale beer. Walter sat at the head of the long oak table. He was not the king. He was not the lord. He was the man who watched the hands. His left hand rested on the table. The knuckles were swollen. The skin was paper-thin. It was a hand that had worked the soil for forty years. It was a hand that had never held a weapon. "Another toast," said...

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