The Wistful Show
Chapter One The water in the mill race ran high and cold, threatening to burst the old pipes that fed the town. Clifford Hutchins stood in the mud of the yard, his boots caked in the grey sludge of the bank, listening to the hiss of steam escaping the main valve. He was thirty years old, and his hands shook, not from the cold, but from the debt that sat on his chest like a stone. His father had...
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