The Wistful Cipher
"Did you hear what the coroner said?" The voice belongs to Dr. Aris, though he is not in the room. He is a memory, a ghost of a man in a tweed suit standing in the doorway of my study, his face pale and tight with a polite, terrible patience. I am sitting at the desk, the one with the green baize top worn thin in the center, and I am holding a ribbon. It is silk, the color of old blood, frayed...
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