The Distant Journey
14 October 1924. The train pulled out of Harrow Station just as the rain began to spit against the glass, a cold and persistent drizzle that seemed to seep into the bones of the carriage. I am writing this by the light of a tallow candle, my hands still trembling from the cold, though I tell myself it is merely the vibration of the wheels on the tracks. Julian sent me to St. Jude’s Chapel with...
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