The Wistful Atlas
The ink was bleeding out of the page as I watched, a slow, gray hemorrhage that turned the bold lines of the Niger Delta into a blur of white nothing. I pressed my thumb against the wet paper, trying to stop the loss, but the Mist had already claimed the border of the colony. It was November, 1893, and the office at Whitmore & Sons Cartographic was cold, the gaslights hissing in the drafts that...
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