The Distant Legend
The invitation was printed on heavy cream stock, the edges embossed with a crest that cost Elias Thorne four dollars and fifty cents a sheet, a sum that had made his wife, Clara, wince when she paid the printer. He held the card in his left hand, the paper cool and rigid against his palm, while his right hand tightened the knot of his bow tie, a silk ribbon the color of dried blood. In the town...
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