The Distant Joke

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2026-08-24 18:35:09 -

The Distant Joke

I was wiping the grime from the Whispering Coin with a handkerchief that had once been white when the coach hit the first ruts of the King’s Road, and the metal began to sear against my thumb. The heat was immediate, a sharp chemical burn that smelled of ozone and old copper, and I dropped the coin into my lap before it could blister the skin further. My father had died three days prior, a slow...

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