The Wistful Letter
14 November, 1842. I am Elias Thorne, thirty-two years of age, and I am a scribe in the village of Blackwood. My hands are stained with ink and the cold. I stand before the heavy oak door of the parish archive, my breath misting in the thin air. I want the silver brooch. It belongs to my late wife, Elara. It is the last item of value in her estate, and I need it to settle the final debt we owed...
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