THE BENEFACTOR

THE BENEFACTOR

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WpMetadataReadMatureComplete Fri, May 29, 20268m
an english short story about the benefactor. They call me a benefactor. It is a word too large for a man such as I, yet it clings-whispered between shutters, breathed through the cracks of rotting wood, carried like damp air from canal to corridor. I do not deny it. Why should I? A service rendered is a service owed, and if the village will not name me openly, then let them murmur in the dark.
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