The Distant Affair

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2026-08-20 00:37:37 -

The clock on the mantle was broken. It had stopped at four o’clock in the afternoon, three days ago. It did not tick. It did not chime. It only stood there, a gray sentinel in the dusty corner of the study. Arthur sat in the high-backed chair. His hands were still. They rested on his knees, pale and thin as birch wood. He did not breathe loudly. He did not blink often. He waited. The room was...

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