The Wistful Show
The needle pierces the wool, a small, sharp sound in the cold room. You pull the thread through, tight, checking the tension. It is the third buttonhole on the militia captain’s tunic, and if it is not perfect, you will not be paid the four shillings that will keep the coal fire going until your brother is found. Your fingers are stiff from the damp, the kind of cold that settles in the...
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