The Distant Affair
1912. The parlor ferns are screaming again. The sound is high and thin, like a nail dragged across a chalkboard, but wetter. It comes from the pot by the window, where the fronds have curled into tight, fleshy knots. I am Elias Thorne, forty-two, a customs inspector for the port. I have nineteen years of service behind me and a reputation built on precision. I need to clear my name before Lily...
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