The Pale Mist
The coal weighed four hundred pounds per ton, and the mist weighed nothing at all, which made it the heavier burden. I counted the lumps in the sack as I carried them from the tipple to the office, one, two, three, each stone cold and slick with that pale, oily residue that clung to the skin like sweat. My fingers were black to the second knuckle, the soot packed so tightly into the whorls of...
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