The Distant Cartograph

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2026-08-21 02:48:56 -

The banquet hall smelled of roasted goose and wet wool, a cloying perfume that clung to the back of my throat like a secret I was not meant to keep. We sat at long tables of varnished oak, the air thick with the smoke of cheap tobacco and the heavy, unspoken grief of those who had crossed the sea to find work in the mills of Manchester. I was seated near the window, where the rain lashed...

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