The Distant Metropolis
The fire started in the basement of the textile mill, a low, hungry roar that swallowed the silence of the night before it cracked the foundation stones and leaped into the cold October air. Thomas Whitmore stood on the factory floor, a boy of twelve with eyes that had seen too much of the soot and too little of the sun, watching as the inferno consumed the very walls that had housed his family...
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