The Faded Masquerade
The ledger in Elara’s left hand weighed exactly four pounds, twelve ounces, and three grains, a weight she had measured three times that morning with the brass scale on the desk. She was thirty-two years old, and the debt on her late husband’s name was three hundred pounds, a sum that had grown by interest since his funeral in the winter, a sum that required the transcription of the final,...
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