The Faded Frequency
The ink was three days old, and the nib had dried into a hard, black scab that required a sharp knife to break. Elias counted the coins in his palm, four shillings and two pence, the exact cost of a postage stamp for the city and the fare to the station. He wrote the date, October 14, 1892, in the corner of the paper, his hand steady despite the cold that had settled in the walls of the...
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