The Wistful Dinner
The rain in 1893 did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a thick, grey curtain that turned the industrial outskirts of Leeds into a blur of soot and steam. You are Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old, and you are packing your kit with the mechanical precision of a man who has spent his life folding the world into neat, manageable squares. The uniform hangs on the hook, the wool heavy with...
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