The Distant Blade
Elias. The name hits the air like a stone. You are thirty-two. You have worked the night shift at the Harrow Textile Mill for six years. You earn four dollars a week. You owe the company eleven dollars for a coat you bought on credit two winters ago. The debt is a weight in your chest, heavier than the iron shutters you check every hour. You wake. The alarm clock on your desk is silent. It has...
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