The Distant Ghost
The coal dust tasted of iron and old rain, a metallic tang that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat as he stared at the ceiling of his narrow bedroom. It was 1912, and the city of Pittsburgh groaned under the weight of its own industry, the smokestacks bleeding gray plumes into the sky like wounds that refused to close. Elias was forty-two, a man whose body had been slowly eroded by the...
0 Commenti 0 condivisioni 5 Views 0 Anteprima