The Distant Joke
The ledger weighed four pounds, the ink still damp and smelling of iron and pine, and Elias Thorne counted the hours he had spent staring at the numbers until the digits blurred into a single, throbbing gray smear. He had arrived in Oakhaven with nothing but a coat that had seen better decades and a letter of introduction that he had forged with a steady hand and a trembling heart, the paper...
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