The Distant Threshold
"Stay behind me, Kenji. The ice is thin." I said it to the wind, mostly, because the wind was the only thing in the valley that didn’t look at me with pity. The steam whistle screamed from the coal tipple, a sound like a dying animal, and the cold bit into the skin of my cheeks, numbing the ache that had settled behind my ribs. We were walking the survey line for the new railway, a job that was...
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