The Wistful Asylum
The ledger showed a deficit of forty-two shillings and sixpence in the winter coal allowance, a figure that sat on the desk like a stone, heavy and cold, while the rain lashed against the high, narrow windows of the Blackwood Asylum administrative office. I had counted the entries three times, checking the ink for smudges, the dates for errors, knowing that by the time the new warden, Mr....
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