The Wistful Show
The heavy oak keys, cold and heavy as iron teeth, sat in Elias’s palm, their brass handles worn smooth by decades of anxious handling. He stood in the center of the Blackwood hall, the stone floor echoing the slight tremor in his legs, while his brother Julian sat rigid in the high-backed chair by the unlit hearth. The air in the room was thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper, a smell...
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