The Wistful Skyline
The count began with the coal dust, a fine grey powder that coated the inside of Elias Vane’s left hand, which trembled so violently that the match he struck to light the kerosene lamp sputtered and died before it caught. He had packed two shirts, a pair of trousers, and a heavy wool coat into the canvas bag, weighing it against the doorframe to ensure it was light enough for the long walk to...
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