The Golden Quest
The rain in November of 1912 did not fall so much as it settled, a persistent, grey mist that clung to the wool of your coat and seeped into the marrow of your bones as you walked from the tram stop to the Municipal Water Authority building. You were thirty-four years old, a junior clerk with twelve years of service, and your hands were cramped with the cold, the knuckles swollen and red, a...
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