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Still posting from that “Steampunk Thing.” The first draft isn’t done yet and I’m hoping that this will keep me motivated to keep at it.
(Apologies for any language usage that’s anachronistic. I’ll deal with that once the first draft is done.)
This picks up from last week.
“So, then, I’ll be seeing you first thing in the morning,” I said. I picked up my coat and cap from my bag of tools and prepared to go out into the weather.
“Were you planning on starting tonight?” she asked, noting my tool bag.
“I always take me tools when I’m out and about. They’re less likely to go missing that way.”
She tilted her head.
“The lock on me door’s not the greatest. Neither’s my door. An’ my neighbors aren’t exactly the neighborly trustable sort.”
She nodded but didn’t press further.
“Do you have a long trip home?”
“I live in The Old Nichol, Miss.”
Before she could reply the door opened and a man came in, accompanied by a blast of cold wet wind.
*(The Old Nichol was one of the worst slums in London’s East End.)