The Distant Summer
The ledger weighed four pounds, exactly the same as the bag of flour Elias Vane had carried up the mill stairs that morning, and he felt the specific, grinding fatigue of a man who has spent his life measuring out survival in small, insufficient increments. It was the autumn of 1912, and the air in the Blackwood Mill office smelled of wet wool and old iron, a scent that seemed to settle in the...
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