The Wistful Incense

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 21:46:32 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a grey curtain drawn tight over the town of Harrow’s End, where the ironworks breathed its rust-colored breath into the morning fog and the cobblestones slicked with oil and silt. I stood at the edge of the platform, my coat damp to the bone, watching the last of the morning commuters drift away into the mist, their umbrellas blooming and...

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