The Faded Apartment
The bridge over the river gorge stood as a single, trembling span, its ropes creaking under the weight of the toll that Concepcion Vargas owed to the Duke. Below, the water churned with the silt of the recent rains, indifferent to the commerce that passed above, while in the workshop at twenty-three of Candlewick Row, the furnace roared with a silence that was louder than the storm. Concepcion,...
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