The Station of Always
Rook woke on the metal grating of the Station's main corridor and knew, before he opened his eyes, that it would be Tuesday. It was Tuesday. Rust-snow drifted through a crack in the ceiling - microscopic particles of oxidized metal that the Station's failing atmosphere couldn't quite keep contained. They fell like orange confetti, painting everything a faint, permanent rust-color. Rook's hair...
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