The Pale Path
Elias Thorne woke with the taste of chalk and cold iron in his mouth. The dream was always the same: a pale, unchanging path stretching through a grey fog, leading nowhere, mirroring the stagnant, grey rhythm of his life in the mill. He was thirty-two, a junior clerk in the Hartwell Textile Mill, and he had spent the last four years climbing the same rung of a ladder that did not move. He...
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