The Faded Road
Elias Thorne’s thumb pressed against the page, trying to flatten the curl, but the leather cover of the ledger resisted, warm and damp like a living thing. He was forty-two, a debt collector for Vane & Associates, and he had spent the last hour staring at a name that should not have been there: Margaret Thorne. The ink was not black, but a deep, oxidized red, and it smelled faintly of iron and...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews