The Golden Downtown
The ink bled into the fibrous grain of the ledger page, a dark, spreading stain that mirrored the smudge of rust on the calipers I had been holding for the last three hours. It is October 12, 1923, and the cold has settled into the marrow of my bones, a persistent ache that no amount of hot coffee from the canteen can dislodge. I am Elias Thorne, junior clerk at the Meridian Steel Works, and I...
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