The Distant Clue
The air in the Foundry District tasted of iron and burnt ozone, a metallic tang that coated the back of the teeth and lingered long after the lungs had expelled the visible grey. Here, beneath the vaulted ceilings of the abandoned textile mill that had become a sanctuary for the displaced, the light did not fall from above but seeped up from the floor, rising through the cracks in the stone...
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