The Distant Whispers
The ledger at the Oakhaven Historical Society recorded three years of Elias Thorne’s life as a deduction from his pension, a line item marked in red ink next to his name. He counted the coins in his pocket, seven silver pieces, enough for the apothecary and a meal, if the meal was bread and water. The fog in his mind was not a metaphor; it was a physical weight, a damp wool blanket pressed...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews