The Faded Photograph
I Gustave Lefevre’s hand was black with ink, the quill trembling as it hovered over the parchment, the nib a hair’s width from the wet surface where the Abbot’s signature was to be. The room smelled of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of the new papal decree that had arrived three days prior, a document that forbade clerical involvement in secular contracts, a rigid wall that Gustave had...
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