The Distant Affair
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, stained with the dampness of the autumn rain that had besieged the city for three days. It was not a personal note. It was a form. A standard, gray, bureaucratic slip of paper from the Ministry of Health, bearing the red seal of the Department of Chronic Illness Management. Margaret Holloway held it in her trembling hands. The paper felt cold, like a dead leaf....
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