The Distant Summer
The envelope was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of sulfur and stale tobacco. I held it in my left hand, the one that trembled slightly, while my right thumb smoothed the edge of the wax seal. Inside lay a single sheet of paper, the wage slip for the month of October, 1912. The figures were printed in sharp, black type, but the total was wrong. It was forty dollars short. Not a penny,...
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