The Wistful Saga
The train cut through the fog like a knife through wet wool. Margaret Holloway sat by the window, watching the grey blur of the countryside. Her hands were wrapped around a cold cup of tea. The steam did not rise. It just sat there, trapped. She was going to the Millbrook Inquiry. The case was simple on paper. A man named Elias Thorne. Dead in his sleep. Or so the coroner said. The police...
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