The Distant Affair
The train cuts through the grey belly of the Pennine hills like a blade through old wool, and you sit in the corner of the carriage, your hands wrapped around a cup of tea that has long since gone cold, the ceramic rim leaving a faint, damp circle on your knuckles that you refuse to wipe away. It is the year 1908, a time when the smoke of industry chokes the sky and the rhythm of the world is...
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