The Faded Dust
The sky above the industrial district of Ashworth did not darken with night but with a thick, grey suffocation, a curtain of soot and steam that had been pulled tight around the city for three days. It was a Tuesday in late November, and the air tasted of copper and wet ash, a flavor that clung to the back of the throat and refused to be washed away by any amount of tea or water. In the high...
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