The Wistful Asylum
The silence in the study was not an absence of sound but a heavy, physical substance, a thick velvet curtain drawn tightly against the glass of the window, muffling the distant, rhythmic chug of the locomotive that ran along the riverbed below, a sound that had once marked the passage of time into a reliable, mechanical heartbeat, now reduced to a low, mournful thrum that seemed to vibrate in...
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