The Distant Journey
The paper was thin, cheap, and smelled of stale ink. It was a termination notice, printed on the standard form of the Northern Central Railway, the margins crowded with the small print of liability and the large print of dismissal. Elias Thorne held it in his gloved hand, the paper trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer weight of the words. He stood alone in the yard, the snow falling...
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