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Scandal: Chapter Nineteen - navessa allen
“There,” I said, passing John the final sheet of paper I’d been writing on. He took it from me and, with a practiced hand, sifted the finely ground powder over its surface that would absorb any excess ink. He allowed it to dry for several minutes, blotted it for good measure, and added it to the sheaf of other papers I had filled. They contained all of my recollections from this afternoon, going into great detail about the physical appearance of the man who had handed me the letter as well as every social interaction from the gathering. My fingers cramped slightly from holding the quill for so long, and I stretched them out as I stood from John’s desk and went to stand by the window. The weather had turned while I had been writing. Dark, billowing clouds roiled in from the west and crouched low over the city in idle threat. A soft, fine mist coated the glass panes in front of me. I reached out a hand to feel the cold coming off of them. In the distance, thunder growled, low and menacing. “A storm’s blowing in,” Henry said from behind me. “Both a literal and figurative …