The Distant Clue
The letter lay on the desk, the paper yellowed and brittle as a dried leaf, the ink faded to a brown that looked like old blood. You read it again, the words blurring slightly at the edges, the familiar tremor in your left hand making the page jump. It was a bill for the restoration of the north window, dated three days ago, but you knew it was not the money that mattered, only the signature at...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews