The Golden Downtown
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, cold drumming against the soot-stained windows of the railway carriage that echoed in Enoch’s skull with the persistence of a bad memory. He sat with his back against the vibrating wood, his eyes fixed on the small, brass-rimmed mirror clipped to the interior of his top hat, a relic of a life he had sworn to leave behind in the industrial...
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