The Golden Farce
The ink on the extension paper was still wet when the first stone spoke. I had been at the Halloway Estate for three years, a clerk in the ledger room, my fingers stained with the same black as the debt I carried. My father’s deed was due in the winter auction, and the bank had offered me a reprieve, a signature in exchange for a promise to pay what could not be paid. I signed. I wanted the...
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