The Wistful Silence
The banquet hall of the Ironworks was a cavernous mouth of soot and grease, where the air hung heavy with the scent of rendered lard and the metallic tang of hot forge, a suffocating atmosphere that pressed against the lungs of every man who had gathered beneath the vaulted ceiling to celebrate the end of the strike and the restoration of order. The tables were long and scarred, covered in...
0 Comentários 0 Compartilhamentos 1 Visualizações 0 Anterior