The Distant Cartograph
The carriage shuddered against the cobblestones, a rattling beast of iron and steam, carrying you toward the city’s belly. You press your face to the grimy glass, watching the smog peel away from the rooftops in slow, grey ribbons. In your lap sits a bundle wrapped in oilcloth. It is heavy, cold, and smells faintly of the river mud where you found it. Inside is the coat. Not a garment, but a...
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