The Distant Ghost
The fog did not lift; it merely thickened, pressing against the soot-stained windows of the engine room like a living, breathing thing. You sat on the cold iron floor, your back against the vibrating boiler, listening to the rhythmic, heavy breathing of the coal. It was a sound like a giant sleeping in a dream of ash. Outside, the river Thames churned in the dark, carrying the silt of London...
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