The Distant Crown
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air that seeped through the single-pane windows, smelling faintly of wet wool and old paper. Elias Thorne stared at the block of typed text, his eyes tracing the formal rejection of his structural restoration proposal for St. Jude’s Chapel, the ink dry and sharp as a blade against his vision. The signature at the...
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