The Distant Legend
The first letter arrived on a Tuesday, the envelope soft with the damp of the post office, the ink still wet when you opened it. Your mother’s handwriting, the loops of her 'e’s tight and anxious, filled the page with a warning about a fire that had not yet happened. The date on the postmark was three days in the future. You held the paper under the gaslight of your small desk, the smell of...
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