The Wistful Dinner
The first entry is dated the fourteenth of October, the ink already bleeding into the fibers of the page as if the paper were sweating. I am Elias Thorne, junior archivist at the Thorne Estate, and I have failed. The ledger, that heavy, leather-bound volume that holds the financial integrity of our line for three centuries, is rotting in my hands. It was not always so. A week ago, it was merely...
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