The Faded Road
14th October, 1912 "You look like a man who has forgotten how to swallow, Elias." I did not turn around. I was too busy scraping the rust from the rim of the iron cup with a knife that had lost its edge three winters ago, the metal singing a low, dull note against the metal. The attic room in Manchester smelled of damp wool and the stale tobacco of the tenant downstairs, a smell that had begun...
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