The Wistful Voyage
The match struck, hissing in the dry air. Elias Thorne held the flame to the corner of the leather binding, watching the wax catch. He was fifty-eight, a tenured historian whose hands trembled only when he held a pen, and he had spent the last decade ensuring his department’s funding by chasing the ghost of his father’s maritime journals. The books sat on the desk, a stack of three volumes...
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