The Distant Affair
The house holds its breath. You feel it in the dust motes dancing in the single shaft of light that pierces the heavy velvet curtains. It is a light that feels old, tired, like the eyes of a dog that has waited too long for a master who never returned. You are standing in the center of the library, a room you have memorized by touch in the dark. Your fingers trace the spine of a book. Leather....
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