The Distant Ghost
The boiler hissed. It was a low, wet sound. Like a dying lung. Miles stood by the valve. His hand trembled. The heat was unbearable. Sweat stung his eyes. He was the junior engineer. The lowest rung. The company was vast. Iron and steam. The Mill. It took up the whole valley. Smoke choked the sky. Miles loved the place. Or he thought he did. He loved the rhythm. The clank. The hiss. The smell...
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