The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 16:36:13 -

The Distant Joke

The fog in Oakhaven did not rise; it sat. It pressed against the stone walls of the Magistrate’s office like a damp cloth, muffling the sound of Elias Thorne’s breathing. He sat on a wooden bench, his hands bound by the cold weight of his own insignificance. For three weeks, he had waited for a hearing that the court had delayed, then postponed, then simply forgotten. The room was a tomb of...

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