The Distant Journey
The chisel struck the stone. Again. The dust rose in a pale cloud, choking the light. I wiped my brow with a sleeve that was already gray. The quarry men watched. They do not speak. They only watch. I am the new foreman. I am not one of them. I am the judge. Or so they think. My name is Elias. I work for the Company. The Company is the law. The law is the Company. We take the stone from the...
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