The Distant Machine
The first sack of peat weighed forty pounds, and by the time I had hauled twelve up the slope to the library door, my shoulders ached with a dull, persistent throb that matched the rhythm of the wind against the slate. I had counted the days since the last entry in the ledger, three weeks of silence that felt heavier than the coal itself, and I knew that if I did not find the missing pages...
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