The Faded Dust
The white lily sat in the bottom of the drawer, its petals unblemished by the soot that coated the walls of the Imperial Railway administrative office, a stark, impossible purity that Elias Thorne checked every morning with a reverence that bordered on the religious. It was October 1904, and the air in the building was thick with the smell of coal dust and damp wool, yet the flower remained...
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