The Distant Joke
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray sheet that blurred the world into a smear of wet brick and darkened leaves. I stood by the window of the study, watching the water race down the glass, while my hands, usually steady enough to transcribe the finest calligraphy of the sixteenth century, trembled slightly as I held the cup of tea. It was not the cold, though the heating...
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