The Wistful Witness
The iron key hung heavy on Thomas Bradshaw’s belt, a cold weight against his hip that seemed to pull him down into the damp earth of the cellar. It was a key of simple, brutal design, unadorned and black with age, fitting the lock of a door that had not opened in three generations. For Thomas, it was not merely a tool of his office as the High Bailiff of the Holloway Estate, but a mirror of his...
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