The Faded Root
The first thing I learned about the chain was its weight, a cold, heavy thing that sat on the bench like a dead snake. I weighed it against the brass balance, the needle trembling in a way that made my teeth ache, and I counted the links, one by one, until my fingers went numb in the damp air of the workshop. It was November of 1904, and the light from the streetlamps outside was turning the...
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