The Faded Bouquet
The letter lay flat on the desk, its edges worn soft from the friction of Elias’s thumb against the paper. It was a simple thing, a demand for rent from Mrs. Vane, but the weight of it seemed to press down on the wood, a heavy, damp stone that would not lift. Elias read it three times, his eyes tracing the same jagged lines of the signature, the ink slightly blurred where the pen had hesitated....
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews