The Temperature at Which a Man Shatters
The telegram fluttered from Andrew Carrington's hand and settled on the Persian carpet like a wounded moth. It was the seventh of December, 1887, and the gas lamps along Wall Street had been burning since three in the afternoon, when the sky had turned the color of tarnished pewter and refused to brighten. Through the frosted window of his corner office, Carrington could see the elevated...
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