The Wistful Letter
The wind did not blow in Blackwood Asylum; it seeped. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, and your heart beats with the irregular, stuttering rhythm of a clock left in the rain. You want your pension. You want the quiet dignity of a full thirty years of service recognized by the Board. To get it, you must prove that the "ghost" in Ward 4 is not a spirit, but a man. A fraud. A thief. The cold draft...
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