The Golden Mirror
The mist clings to the iron rails. It is cold. You know the cold. It sits in your marrow. You are in the engine room. The steam presses against your skin. It is wet. It is heavy. You hold the brass valve. It is smooth. It is warm. You do not let go. Your hand is a claw. The metal is a life. The ship moves. The water is black. The night is endless. You are a prisoner of the boiler. The fire eats...
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