The Faded River
The air in the sub-basement of the Whitmore Textile Mill did not merely sit; it pressed, a heavy, damp blanket woven from the exhalations of a hundred men who had worked the same looms for decades, their lungs slowly becoming part of the cotton dust that hung in the perpetual twilight below street level, where the only light came from the flickering gas lamps that cast long, trembling shadows...
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