The Distant Affair
I woke with the taste of iron and wet earth on my tongue, the dream having receded like a tide from a muddy shore, leaving behind only the cold, damp chill in my marrow. I am a man of letters, a keeper of the archives at the University of Edinburgh, a profession that demands a silence so profound it often feels less like peace and more like a burial. My hands, stained not with ink but with the...
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