The Pale Banner
The fog in Millhaven did not merely obscure the world; it swallowed it, a thick, gray wool that pressed against the glass of the windows and seeped into the very marrow of the bones, a substance that tasted of coal dust and old rain and the metallic tang of the river that ran black and silent through the center of the town. It was a morning like any other in the late autumn of 1924, a day when...
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