The Golden Visit
The train hissed. Steam rose. It smelled of coal and wet wool. Elias stood in the corridor. His hands shook. He clutched his bag. It was heavy with earth. From the valley. From the place he left behind. He had come to see his brother. Or rather, to be seen by him. Thomas was waiting. At the station. In a coat of black wool. His face was pale. Like paper. Elias saw the tension in his jaw. The...
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