The Distant Affair
The stone was cold, heavier than it had any right to be, and when I woke, the sweat had soaked through my nightshirt, clinging to my spine like a second skin. I lay in the dark of my study, listening to the tick of the clock on the mantelpiece, a sound that seemed to expand until it filled the room, until it was the only thing existing in the world. My mother’s hand had been in the dream,...
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