The Distant Affair
The dream was always the same, a cold weight pressing against Arthur Vane’s chest as he lay in the narrow bed of his cottage. A black crow, feathers slick with oil and wet earth, perched on the headstone of his father’s grave. The bird did not caw; it simply watched, its eyes holding the hollow, patient darkness of the mine shafts. Arthur woke with the taste of coal dust in his throat, the year...
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