The Distant Metropolis
The ledger showed four pounds, two shillings, and sixpence in the tin under the loose floorboard, a sum that felt less like money and more like a thin sheet of ice over a deep, freezing hole. I counted the coins three times, the brass edges biting into my thumb, calculating how many weeks that could stretch before the landlord, Mr. Gentry, would finally change the locks on our cramped room in...
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