The Distant Crown
The silver cufflink sat in Elias Thorne’s left palm, cold against the skin. It was a small, fractured thing, a shard of metal that had once been a pair, a gift from Sarah before the illness took her. For twenty years, Elias had worn the matching piece in his shirt cuff, a silent anchor to a life he was now trying to leave behind. He was forty-two, a senior corrections officer with two decades...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews