Synopsis

The air in the workshop hung thick with the scent of oil and regret. Elias traced a worn gear with a calloused finger, the metal cold against his skin. He hadn't spoken to Thomas in months, not since the letters started arriving – flowery, desperate declarations of love for a woman neither of them knew. Thomas, the bookbinder, had always been a dreamer, but this was different. These weren’t the fanciful tales he usually crafted; these were raw, aching expressions of a yearning Elias couldn't