The Distant Nightmare
The letter from the Department of Archives lay on the mahogany desk, the paper thick and cream-colored, smelling faintly of old dust and the lemon polish I had used that morning. It was a standard appointment notice, the kind that promised stability in a life otherwise prone to drift, confirming my promotion to Senior Archivist effective the first of the month. I read it twice, the ink sharp...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 1 Views 0 Anteprima