The Wistful Atlas
The letter from the solicitor’s office arrived on a Tuesday, sealed with black wax that cracked when I broke it. It was a simple thing, three lines of typed text informing me that the deed to Harrowgate Manor had been transferred, effective immediately, to the estate of Magistrate Vane. I read it twice, the ink of the typeface stark against the cream paper, and then I looked at my left hand. It...
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