The Distant Metropolis
The bill was folded into a tight, square packet of paper, the ink smudged at the corners where Elias Thorne had held it too long, his thumb pressing against the crease as if trying to flatten the debt itself. He sat on the edge of his narrow cot in the single room above the Blackwood apothecary, the sound of the coal chute clattering outside a rhythmic, grinding noise that seemed to vibrate in...
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