The Wistful Voyage
14 October. The damp has come back, thick as wool soaked in brine, and it sits on my chest like a stone I cannot lift. I am writing this from the desk in the hallway, the only place in the house where the air does not taste of rot. I want you to understand, Clara, that I am not asking for charity; I am asking for the deed to be transferred so that the Hollow can be exorcised by the sale. The...
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