The Wistful Throne
The transfer papers lay in your hands, damp and heavy, the ink of the official seal bleeding into the paper as if the document itself were sweating. You stand in the rain outside the Magistrate’s office, the cold water soaking through your wool coat and chilling the skin of your chest. Inside, behind the frosted glass, you can see the silhouette of Magistrate Halloway, but he does not open the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews