The Golden Visit
The train groaned into the station at Harrowgate, a sound like the settling of a bone long broken, and I stepped down onto the platform with the heaviness of a man who has walked too far and knows he will not walk back. The air here was thick with the scent of coal smoke and damp earth, a tangible weight that pressed against my lungs and settled into the marrow of my limbs. I carried nothing...
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