The Distant Affair
The air in the Great Hall of St. Jude’s was thick with the smell of roasted pheasant and fear. I stood at the edge of the banquet table, my white apron stark against the dark wood, watching Mayor Aldous Thorne cough. It was a wet, rattling sound, a sound that seemed to tear at the fabric of the evening. The townspeople laughed, a nervous, brittle sound, trying to cover the silence that had...
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