The Distant Summer
The envelope was thick, the paper yellowed with age, and the ink had faded to a brownish grey that looked less like writing and more like a stain. Elias held it up to the weak light of the hallway lamp, his fingers trembling slightly not from cold, though the house was certainly cold, but from the weight of the paper itself. It was the final notice from the solicitor, confirming that the estate...
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