The Faded Chronicle
Thorne, you’ll get on the train or you’ll get lost in the snow, Callum shouted, his voice cracking with a pity that felt sharper than the cold seeping into your bones. You stood on the platform at Greyfriars Station, your knuckles white around the handle of the leather-bound chronicle of the 1974 labor strikes, the spine of the book cracked and softened by twenty years of being the sole keeper...
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