The Distant Affair
The grandfather clock in the hallway did not tick; it hissed, a wet, rhythmic sound like a snake moving through dry leaves. You knew the rule before you ever spoke a word, though the rule itself was a lie you had told yourself to make sense of the silence. In 1912, the Vane house stood heavy with dust and debt, and you, Arthur Vane, thirty years old and hollowed out by clerical work, wanted...
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