The Distant Legend
The letter lay on the mahogany desk, its edges soft and worn from being handled a hundred times over the last decade. Elias Thorne, a court stenographer of forty-two years, picked it up, the paper heavy and damp with the humidity of the archive room, and read the date again: five years ago, written in the cramped, slanting hand of a man who had died of a heart attack before the ink was fully...
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