The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-25 09:15:15 -

The Distant Joke

I was scrubbing the mud from the hem of my dress when the guards came for the Archivist. My hands were raw, the water in the bucket cold and gray. I watched them drag him from the square, his mouth open in a silent scream that the wind swallowed. The Guild Master stood on the steps of the loggia, his face a mask of bored indifference. He did not look at the man. He looked at me. I was...

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