The Wistful Skyline

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2026-08-17 12:18:28 -

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a suspended gray mist that clung to the windowpanes of the station like a secret too heavy to speak, while I held the brass compass in my hand, its needle trembling not toward north but toward some unseen, aching void that pulled at the center of my chest. "You’re late again, Captain," the stationmaster said, his voice thin and reedy, drifting...

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