The Distant Affair
The magistrate’s laughter was not a sound so much as a physical weight, a heavy, dry thud that seemed to crush the air in the small, wainscoted office. Elias Thorne stood before the desk, his fingers white-knuckled around the shattered porcelain locket, the jagged edges biting into his palms until the pain was the only thing that felt real. He was thirty-four years old, a clerk whose life had...
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