The Wistful Letter
The dream is always the same. You are standing in the Ministry of Internal Affairs, but the corridors are made of glass, and behind the glass, thousands of clerks are screaming silently. You wake with the taste of iron in your mouth. It is October 12, 1893. The air in the office smells of dust and old paper. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a junior clerk who has spent the last five...
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