The Distant Clue
The letter lay on the oak desk, its seal broken, the ink still damp against the cream paper. Elias Thorne held it up to the window, the weight of the parchment negligible yet heavy in his palm, a burden of bureaucratic expectation. He was thirty-two, an archivist of middling rank, and the document confirmed what he had long suspected: the tenure committee required a breakthrough in the Vane...
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