The Distant Promise
The bus groaned against the wet asphalt, a mechanical sigh that seemed to come from the very bones of the vehicle as it climbed the steep, rain-slicked hill toward St. Jude’s Institute. You sat in the back row, your knuckles white around the strap of your bag, watching the blurred neon of the city smear into long, bruised streaks of violet and red. The wipers beat a frantic, rhythmic code...
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