The Golden Harbor
The paper was thin, translucent in the guttering light of the oil lamp, and the ink had bled into the fibers where my sweat had dampened it. It was the writ of execution, signed by the magistrate in a hand that trembled only slightly, a signature that looked less like a declaration of law and more like a bruise on the white skin of the page. I held it with both hands, my fingers numb, the cold...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews