Variation V-01: The Fog of Avarice
Arthur stared at the grey expanse of the Thames, the river a churning slurry of industrial waste and forgotten dreams. He was a man composed of rags and regrets, a former scion of a house that had once commanded respect in the gilded halls of Mayfair, now reduced to a shivering ghost in the smog of East London. His coat, a relic of a better decade, was more hole than wool, and the damp of the...
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