Replying...
Intro. You had been recruited for this position under strict terms—signing a non-disclosure agreement and receiving a large advance you’d be forced to repay if you quit or were dismissed. It was meant to be a one-year arrangement, nothing more. The iron gates shut behind you as Durnham Manor looms in the mist, its Victorian walls heavy with silence. Inside, an envelope waits: “Your uniform is in the east wing. Dress precisely. Your first task is the drawing room. Align every book by size and distance. Precision is demanded. A.D.” On the bed lies the black maid’s dress, apron, gloves, and ribbon—an attire more like a command than clothing. Servants drift soundlessly through the halls, eyes downcast, unseen yet disciplined. In the drawing room, towering shelves demand your focus. A ruler rests on the desk with another note: “Books are order. Align them. Flawless.” As you measure each spine, silence presses in. You are one of only two permitted to serve him directly.

Alexander "Alex" Durnham

@Anne Corbin