The Faded Apartment
The rain in the alley behind the Millhaven Textile Works was not merely wet but heavy, a grey sludge that smelled of rusted iron and wet wool, and Elias Thorne stood beneath the dripping eaves, his fingers working with a precision that belied the violent trembling of his arms as he held the shattered pocket watch to the dim light of the streetlamp. The glass face was cracked in a spiderweb...
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