The Golden Circuit
The train had been running late since the border, a rust-colored beast of industry that coughed smoke into the gray, rain-slicked sky of the English Midlands, and Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the second-class carriage, his hands wrapped around a tin cup of tea that had long since gone cold. He was an immigrant, a man who had crossed the ocean because the air in his old country felt too...
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