The Distant Threshold
The train smelled of wet wool and coal dust, a heavy, suffocating scent that clung to the back of my throat as I pressed my forehead against the cold, vibrating glass of the window, watching the blurred landscape of the industrial valley slide past in a monochrome wash of gray smoke and rust-colored earth, my hands trembling not from the cold but from the profound, terrifying certainty that I...
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