The Wistful Petal
The bell rang. Three times. Short. Sharp. Like a hammer on a nail. I looked up. My hands were still. Ink on my fingers. Black. Deep. The ledger lay open. Pages fluttered. Wind in the room. But no door was open. I checked. Closed. Locked. I am a clerk. Name is Arthur. Just Arthur. No last name. Or maybe I forgot. Does it matter? The Office is large. Stone walls. High ceilings. Shadows in the...
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