The Golden Circuit
October 12, 1893 Your hand trembles as you grip the pen, the ink blotting the page before the letter forms. The dampness in the Blackwood Mill office has seeped into your bones, a cold that no coat can repel. You are thirty-two, and the weight of your father’s failing breath sits heavier on your chest than the ledger you are meant to balance. You need the position of Head Clerk, not for the...
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