The Pale Meridian
The lead type sits heavy in your palm, cold as a river stone pulled from the silt, its face etched with a lowercase 'e' that seems to vibrate against your skin with a faint, persistent hum. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, and you are the compositor at Harrow & Sons, a printing house in the industrial district of Manchester where the air tastes of copper and stale tobacco, and the...
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