The Distant Joke
The dream was always the same, a recurring fever of wool and silence where the great double-breasted coat of his late mentor, Silas Vane, hung from a single brass hook in an empty hall, yet radiated a heat that pressed against Elias Thorne’s skin like a living breath. Elias woke in his cramped office apartment, the smell of damp paper and stale tea clinging to his throat, his heart hammering...
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