The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 10:00:56 -

The Distant Joke

Mercedes Gallardo was twelve years old and smelled of wet wool and coal dust, a fact that stuck to her clothes like a second skin in the municipal archive of A Coruña. The year was 1914, and the humidity in the building was so thick it warped the paper in the public reading room, curling the edges of the ledgers into tight, brittle fists. I worked as a junior clerk, my job was to index death...

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