The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-22 13:39:39 -

The Distant Joke

The rain had turned the cobblestones outside the White Hart into a slick, black mirror, reflecting the flickering gaslight of the tavern’s single window where I sat, alone with the smell of wet wool and stale beer. I was forty years old, an itinerant sign-painter, and my hands were trembling so violently that the chisel slipped against the grain of the oak block before me, carving a shallow,...

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