The Wistful Saga
The foreclosure notice lay on the kitchen table, its paper thin and yellowed, the ink smudged where Martha’s thumb had pressed it down three days ago. Elias Vane read the date twice, the numbers blurring in the gray light that filtered through the dusty windowpane, and then he folded the paper into a tight square and placed it in his breast pocket, right over the place where his watch ticked....
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