The Rust Loop
The rain in Oakhaven didn't wash things clean; it just turned the dust into a thick, grey paste that smelled of oxidized iron and old regrets. Arthur spent his days at the Shell station on Route 4, pumping gas for people who looked through him as if he were made of glass. He was thirty-four, though his reflection in the greasy mirror looked fifty. Then he found the watch. It was a heavy, brass...
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