The Distant Joke
Chapter One "You’re filing the 1994 municipal records under the wrong decade again, Jitka. That is the third time this week." I looked up from the stack of brittle paper, my fingers stained with the grey dust of old ink. The air in the basement archive was cold, a damp chill that seeped through my cardigan and settled in my joints. Mr. Vane stood over me, his tie askew, his face flushed with...
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