The Distant Garden
The pen in your hand is a Parker 51, steel nib, ink blue-black, and it is scratching against the ledger page with a sound like a mosquito dying on a windowpane. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior auditor in the Ministry of Internal Harmony, and you are currently trying to erase a name that refuses to be erased. The name is Clara. Your daughter. The ledger, a bound volume of calfskin and...
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