The Wistful Show
The rain in the mill town of Oakhaven did not fall; it seeped, a persistent, gray weeping that turned the cobblestones into slick mirrors of the soot-blackened sky. Thomas Bradshaw stood on the platform of the freight yard, his uniform pressed and cold, the brass buttons catching the dim light of the gas lamps that flickered in the damp wind. He was a man of the law, a constable in the new...
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