The Wistful Letter
The paper was thin, yellowed at the edges, and smelled of the damp cellar where Thomas had hidden it. He held it up to the sliver of light cutting through the boarded window of the Blackwood Asylum corridor. It was a letter, forged with a pen that had run dry halfway through, the ink smudged where his small fingers had trembled. The signature at the bottom read *Dr. A. Vane, Chief Physician*,...
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