The Distant Promise
The ledger weighed four pounds, two ounces. Elias Thorne held it in his left hand, the leather spine slick with the damp of the cellar, and counted the hours until the Ministry opened. Three hours. One hundred and eighty minutes. Each minute a coin spent from a purse already empty. He was forty-two, and his hands, which had once sorted the mail with the dexterity of a surgeon, now trembled with...
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