The Distant Crown
The first thing I noticed about the sickness was that it tasted of copper and burnt sugar. It sat at the back of my throat, a heavy, metallic stone that refused to dissolve, and I told myself it was just the dampness of the mill, the condensation that clung to the walls of the lower boiler room where the air was thick enough to chew. I was the inspector, the one who checked the seals, the...
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