The Distant Metropolis
The iron rails of the Great Northern Line screamed as the locomotive clawed its way up the steep grade, the sound a physical weight that pressed against the eardrums and settled in the marrow of the bone. Elias Thorne sat in the back of the third-class carriage, his knuckles white as he gripped the worn leather of his satchel, watching the rain streak the dirty glass in diagonal lines that...
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