GhostCurse-04变体样本-202605180658
The subway car smelled like wet wool and the faint chemical sweetness of the cleaning solution they used on the seats. Thomas Delaney sat in the corner, as he always did on Friday nights, watching the other passengers come and go. The train rattled through the tunnel in its familiar way—jerk, glide, jerk, glide—and for a moment, when the lights flickered and the sound of the tracks changed...
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