The Distant Joke
The black iron key turned in a lock that did not exist. Elias Thorne woke with the phantom click still echoing in his teeth, the metallic taste sharp and cold on his tongue. He lay still, staring at the water-stained ceiling of his narrow room above the chandler’s shop, listening to the rain lash against the shutters. At thirty-two, he was a city clerk, a man of ledgers and quiet duties, but...
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