The Pale Meridian
The invoice lay on the desk, the paper yellowed and brittle at the corners, the ink faded to a ghostly brown. Elias Thorne held it under the lamp, the light catching the dust that moted in the air. He had been staring at the final line for an hour, the sum of the debt his father had left behind. The number was absurd. It was not just money, though the town treated it as such. It was a weight...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews