The Distant Joke
The joke arrived on a Tuesday, wrapped in a manila envelope that smelled of damp wool and drawer-wood. Sebastian Blackwood turned it over in his hands the way his late uncle Reginald would have turned over a half-wound punchline—circling it, weighing it, pretending it was only curiosity that made him open it. There was no letter. No explanation. Only a sheaf of loose pages, hand-numbered in a...
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