The Shadow Behind the Door
London, 1888 The fog had been hanging over Southwark for three days straight, a yellow-brown curtain that turned gas lamps into bruised halos and made the cobblestones gleam like wet bone. Eleanor Price stood at her window on the third floor of a narrow Georgian terrace, watching it swallow the street below. Behind her, the house was quiet in the way that houses are quiet when two people have...
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