The Distant Metropolis
The fog in this city does not behave like weather; it behaves like a lie, thickening in the corners of the room whenever a falsehood is spoken, a peculiar atmospheric anomaly that the meteorologists dismiss but which I have learned to read with the precision of a man watching the tide for a drowning man. I am Elias Thorne, a historian of middling reputation and considerable desperation, and I...
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