The Pale Bonsai
The ledger in Elias Thorne’s hand weighed exactly four ounces, a fact he had verified against the brass scales in the magistrate’s antechamber, where the air tasted of damp wool and stale ink. He counted the entries, his finger tracing the indented lines of his father’s name, Arthur Thorne, which had been struck through in red ink by a clerk whose face he would never forget, a man with a nose...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews