The Wistful Dinner
The letter lay flat on the scarred oak desk, its edges curling slightly from the damp that seeped up through the basement floorboards of the municipal records office. Arthur read the header again, his thumb rubbing the coarse, fibrous texture of the paper until the ink blurred into a grey smear. It was a notice of final disposition regarding the estate of Clara Whitmore, dated three years ago,...
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