The Distant Promise
The letter sat on the mahogany desk, heavy as a stone. It bore the seal of the Ministry, black wax cracked by the cold air of the room. I did not open it. I knew what it said. I had known for three days. The ink was still wet in my mind, though the paper remained untouched. Outside, the fog rolled in from the harbor, thick and grey, swallowing the gas lamps one by one. The city held its breath....
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