The Faded Road
The letter from the Blackwood Estate Management Company lay on the drafting table, its ink still wet and glistening in the cold air of the surveyor’s tent. Arthur Vane stared at the signature, his own hand trembling as he held the pen, the nib hovering above the line where his name was required to certify the final boundary of the north-eastern parcel. He was forty years old, and his lungs felt...
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