The Wistful Petal
The ironworks of Holloway & Sons did not merely produce steel; it exhaled a perpetual, soot-heavy twilight that settled into the lungs of every worker and stained the white collars of the clerks with the dust of industry. Arthur Penhaligon, a junior actuary whose life was measured in the precise, unyielding tick of the steam clock on the wall, sat at his oak desk, staring at the blueprints...
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