The Faded Road
The carriage jolted against the cobblestones of Whitechapel, a violent shudder that traveled up through the iron-riveted seats and into the marrow of Thomas Ashworth’s bones. Outside, the fog rolled in like a grey tide, erasing the gaslights and swallowing the spires of the city whole, leaving only the rhythmic, mechanical clatter of the wheels as a metronome for his anxiety. Thomas clutched...
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