The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-22 12:52:34 -

The ink was smearing. I pressed the magnifying glass harder against the 1945 ledger, my knuckles white, the glass cold against the paper. The letters swam, blurring into a grey fog that made my temples throb. I was forty-two, a senior archivist, and I had three weeks until my tenure review. The St. Jude’s collection catalog was the final requirement. It was the only thing standing between me...

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