The Distant Crown
The rain hammered against the grimy glass of the office window, blurring the world outside into a smear of grey and bruised purple, and you sat there, your fingers trembling so violently that the pen in your hand slipped, leaving a long, dark smear across the page of the ledger. You had been in this room, a small, windowless cubicle at the back of the textile mill’s administrative wing, for...
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