The Keeper of Hollow Glass
The salt was the first thing you noticed. It crusted every surface in white crystalline rind, like the house had been sweating itself dry over decades. Ezekiel Thorne felt it on his tongue the moment he stepped into the salt store — a dry, burning taste that made him want to swallow and not swallow at the same time. He had been hired to clean Penwortham House for fifteen shillings a week, no...
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