The Distant Clue
The fire started in the boiler room. You remember the smell first. It was not the clean, sharp scent of coal dust you knew from your boyhood in the mills, but a thick, choking sweetness. It clung to the back of your throat. It coated your lungs. The alarm bells had not yet begun to ring. They were silent. The silence was worse than the noise. You stood in the hallway of the Ashworth Building, a...
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