The Distant Metropolis
The gavel struck the wood with a sharp, final crack, echoing in the high-ceilinged chamber of the District Court in Bristol. It was a sound that Arthur Penhaligon had spent forty years trying to silence in his own mind, a rhythmic hammering that mirrored the beating of his own heart. He sat in the witness box, his hands folded tightly in his lap, the knuckles white against the dark wool of his...
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