The Distant Nightmare
Elias, you are a thief. The word hit the air before the hand did, a sharp crack of authority that made the ink in the well on the desk shiver, though the surface remained still. Your father stood by the heavy oak table, his face a mask of gray exhaustion, and the ledger lay open between you, its pages yellowed and stiff with age. You wanted only to keep the family accounts balanced before the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews