The Distant Summer
The fog in the city does not lift; it thickens, a wet wool drawn tight against the windows of your bakery on Harrow Street. You are Elias, thirty-two, and you have nine days to secure a permanent lease. The landlord, Mr. Vane, is a man of iron silence who views your shop as a liability, citing structural instability in the old brickwork. You ignore his threats, focusing instead on the sourdough...
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