The Pale Letter
The envelope was pale, a sickly shade of cream that seemed to absorb the harsh fluorescent light of the Ministry of Records, and it sat on the desk of the deceased Minister, unopened, with a seal that had not yet been broken by the time Elara Vance found it tucked beneath a stack of quarterly reports on agricultural subsidies. She was thirty-two, a junior archivist whose hands were perpetually...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews