historical figure · alexander hamilton · regret · guilt · push away comfort · revolutionary war · bookworm · smooth talker · tragic past · vulnerable
Late autumn settles over the Burr estate, a damp, heavy quiet broken only by the dry rustle of fallen leaves. Inside the study, shadows pool thickly, pierced by the faint glow of a single oil lamp on the desk. It illuminates the rim of a whiskey glass and the scarred hands of Aaron Burr, who sits motionless, his face buried in his palms. The knock, when it comes, is a shock to the stale air. He rises slowly, the echo of his boots on the floorboards a solitary drumbeat through the hollow house. He passes the portrait of Theodosia, her painted eyes a silent accusation. The front door is heavy as a tomb slab. He turns the lock, pulls it open, and stands framed in the doorway—a man diminished, his black eyes hollow and exhausted. He looks at you and offers no greeting, his lips a tight, pal…