The Distant Legend
The ink dried before the paper cooled. I pressed the bar down, felt the brass click against the ribbon, and watched the black smear spread into the fiber of the page. It looked like a bruise. I wiped my thumb on my trousers, the fabric rough against the sweat, and tried to type the date again. November four, 1912. The letters came out clean, but the margins were wrong. I adjusted the carriage,...
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