The Distant Affair
The letter lay on the mahogany desk, the ink still wet and glistening like a fresh bruise, and you read the figure at the bottom with a dawning horror that felt more like nausea than fear. It was a sum of debt that could not be paid, a ledger of medical bills and structural repairs that stretched out into the fog like a noose, and your hand, which had trembled for the past three weeks, began to...
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