The-Zero-Point-Elegy-202606062218 txt
The fog that settled over London that November carried a quality of finality that even the oldest residents had not witnessed. It did not merely obscure the gas lamps along Russell Square it swallowed them whole, one by one, as though the city itself were being gradually erased from existence. Dr. Eleanor Ashworth stood at the window of her small room above the Calloway observatory, her breath...
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