The Golden Downtown
The letter lay on the mahogany desk, its seal broken, the ink still wet with the damp that seemed to seep from the walls of Blackwood itself. Elias Thorne read the date, November 14th, 1912, and felt the cold of the room settle into his bones, a damp chill that no coal fire could fully banish. He was forty years old, a physician of some standing in this industrial city of smoke and iron, yet he...
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