The Shadow of Whitmore Mill
Eleanor had always known the world was too small for her. Whitmore Mill dominated the skyline of Manchester like a black tooth against a grey sky, its chimneys pouring smoke into a sky that had long since given up trying to be blue. She was nineteen, the only daughter of Thomas Whitmore, and she had spent every day of her nineteen years in the shadow of that shadow. On the evening of the...
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