The Distant Clue
Did you hear it? The hum. It was not in the air, but in the floorboards, a low thrum that vibrated through the soles of my boots and settled in the teeth. I was standing in the office of the mill, the one with the front room kept for funerals, though we used it for arguments. The foreman, a man named Andreas, sat behind a desk that smelled of stale tobacco and oil. He did not look at me. He...
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