The Golden Downtown
The iron pot was heavy, a dark, circular weight that seemed to anchor the dream to the floorboards, and in his hand Elias held a ladle that had lost all its shine, the metal cold and stiff as the fingers of the man who had once wielded it with such terrifying precision. He woke with the taste of coal smoke in his mouth, the air in the dormitory thick with the damp chill of the November night...
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