The Distant Promise
The fire started in the boiler room. It was a small thing, a flare of black smoke curling up through the vents of the old textile mill, but in the dry autumn air it spread with a hunger that surprised even the firemen. They fought it with hoses and ladders, their boots splashing in the mud of the yard, while the heat pressed against the brick walls like a living weight. Inside, the air was...
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