The Faded Apartment
The petition paper was thin, almost translucent under the gaslight, and Arthur Vane held it with hands that trembled not from cold, but from the sheer, grinding weight of the bureaucracy that lay between him and the right to keep his friend’s workshop. Across the mahogany desk, Magistrate Halloway did not look up from the ledger he was balancing; his quill scratched against the paper with a...
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