The Pale Tower
The first sack of cotton weighed forty-two pounds, and Elias Thorne noted the discrepancy in his ledger with a steady hand, the nib scratching a rhythm against the paper that mimicked the distant, thrumming hum of the looms in the mill below. He was forty years old, a man of precise habits and quiet ambitions, seeking only the security of a permanent post at the municipal library by proving his...
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