The Wistful Incense
The rain in Oakhaven did not wash the town clean; it merely turned the soot from the textile mills into a thick, clinging paste that coated the cobblestones and the faces of the men who walked them. Elias Thorne, Inspector of the Municipal Health Board, stood on the threshold of the apothecary, his umbrella dripping a steady rhythm onto the worn doormat, watching the steam rise from the gutter...
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