A Confession of the Melancholy Curate
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Pages torn from a small notebook. Black ink, in a fine hand.
Unlocked with Opening a Confession exactly 5
'I hate her.' […] Who is this woman? Oh. A flower-arranger at his church.
What is he confessing, exactly? 'She is so decent and so nice and never has a bad word to say about anybody and I just want to bludgeon her with the thurible.' Well then.
[Find the rest of the story at https://www.fallenlondon.com]