The Faded Frequency
The letter was dated November 14th, 1902, and it smelled faintly of coal smoke and damp wool, a scent that had clung to Elias Thorne’s coat since he first stepped off the train in this soot-choked city. He held the paper with trembling hands, the edges fraying under his grip, while across the narrow, candlelit table, Mr. Sterling adjusted his spectacles and watched with the detached, clinical...
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