The Distant Summer
The train hissed into the station of Ashford, a long, metallic exhalation that seemed to carry the weight of the entire industrial age, settling upon the gravel with a heaviness that Elias Thorne felt in the marrow of his bones, a physical manifestation of the institution he had come to dissect. He stepped onto the platform, his boots striking the wet cobblestones with a rhythmic finality, the...
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