The Distant Joke

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2026-08-20 09:41:03 -

The Distant Joke

The bell rang at four. It was a dull, muffled sound, like a hammer striking wet clay. I stopped writing. The ink in my pen was black, wet, and cold. It pooled on the page, a dark eye staring back at me. I looked at the object in my hand. A brass key. It was heavy. It felt warm, as if it had been held by someone who had just run up the stairs. I had not touched it in years. Not since the fire. I...

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