The Wistful Incense
Vane, you’re blocking the aisle. Move your feet. The voice of Director Halloway cut through the damp chill of the St. Jude’s Municipal Library archive, sharp and bureaucratic. I stepped aside, my leather shoes scuffing against the cold stone floor, and watched him march toward the circulation desk. I was thirty years old, a junior archivist, and I had spent the last six months hunched over a...
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