The Distant Clue
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its cream paper stark against the water stain that bloomed from the ceiling like a bruise that would not heal. It was from the City Planning Department, addressed to Elias Thorne, Architect, in a font so rigid it was holding its breath. I picked it up, the paper feeling brittle and heavy in my hands, and read the first line, which stated that my previous...
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