The Faded Portrait
The brush in Elias Thorne’s hand trembled, a fine, metallic vibration that traveled up his wrist and settled in the hollow of his throat. He was forty years old, an actuary of the Meridian Mutual Life Insurance Company, and he was currently attempting to clean a speck of dust from the canvas of his late wife’s portrait. The room was dim, lit only by the gas lamp on the desk, which cast long,...
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