The Wistful Skyline
The first thing I noticed was the weight of the rifle, how it pulled at my shoulder before my mind even registered the cold air biting through my wool coat. I was trying to steady my left hand, the one that had been stiff since the factory floor in Leeds, but the tremor was back, a fine, high-frequency vibration that made the iron barrel jump like a living thing. I stood at the edge of the...
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