The Distant Metropolis
The tremor began in the left hand, a fine, rhythmic shiver that Elias Thorne had spent the last three months attributing to the cold air conditioning of the National Institute of Historical Records, but which had now grown into a violent, uncontrollable spasm that made the holding of a fountain pen an act of sheer, painful will. At fifty-four, Elias was the Institute’s senior archivist, a man...
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