The Distant Journey
The bell rang. It did not chime. It struck, a heavy, dull thud that vibrated in the teeth and settled in the marrow. I stood in the corridor of the Ministry, my boots polished to a mirror shine, reflecting the gray light of the London fog pressing against the high windows. The air smelled of damp wool, coal smoke, and the sterile, antiseptic bite of the tonic vials lined on the shelves. I was a...
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