The Faded Portrait

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2026-08-20 14:10:46 -

The steam from the boiler room rose in thick, curling ribbons that smelled of coal dust and wet wool, a scent that had seeped into the very fibers of the cotton dress I wore, a garment so thin and white that it seemed less like cloth and more like a second skin stretched over the fragile architecture of my bones. I stood at the edge of the factory floor, my feet bare against the cold iron...

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