The Distant Promise
The fog in Harrowgate did not lift; it settled, a thick, gray wool that choked the streets and clung to the wool coats of the commuters. Elias Thorne pulled his collar up, his breath misting in the cold air as he walked toward the City Hall, his satchel heavy with blueprints. He was thirty-two, an architect whose debts had grown as large as his ego, and he needed this commission. The transit...
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