The Distant Joke

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2026-08-26 07:12:28 -

The Distant Joke

Elias. The word hung in the air, sharp and sudden, cut by the coughing of a man three tables away. I looked up from my parchment. The tavern smelled of wet wool and rotting lilies, a cloying sweetness that coated the back of my throat. The man who had called my name was a priest, his face swollen with the black veins of the sickness. He wanted a last rite. He wanted to die in peace, or so he...

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