The Faded Paradox
The copper plating on the railing of the mill’s main catwalk was slick with the condensation of a decade’s worth of industrial humidity, and you gripped it with a hand that had never known the softness of cotton, your fingers digging into the metal as if trying to extract the truth from the cold, unyielding surface, while the gears below you groaned in a low, rhythmic frequency that you had...
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