The Golden Visit
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, smelling faintly of damp earth and old ink, and it was the only thing in the house that did not feel like a cage. I held it up to the window, where the rain streaked the glass in long, vertical tears, and I watched the wax seal, a crest I recognized from my doctoral studies, break under the thumb of my younger sister, Elara. We were sitting in the library, a...
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