The Distant Machine
March 12, 2024 The letter lies on the desk, its edges curling slightly in the dry heat of the radiator, and I hold the pen above it, my hand trembling so violently that the tip of the nib scratches a jagged, useless line across the paper, a small wound in the white silence of the room. I have spent twenty years in the service of this town, twenty years of keeping the peace and the books, and...
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