POV: Ava
The air inside the mill had thickened since I'd stepped into the light, or perhaps that was only my lungs, which had forgotten their primary function somewhere between the frozen step outside and the center of this iron cathedral. It tasted of wet metal and something heavier underneath the specific, suffocating density of hope that has been burning for a long time and is nearly out of fuel. Every step I took forward felt like movement through deep water, the kind of resistance that isn't physical but lives in the body anyway, in the joints and the chest and the throat.
The work light above pressed down on my shoulders like something with weight and intention.
