The Wistful Mirror

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2026-08-17 19:34:29 -

The train slowed as it entered the valley. The air smelled of coal smoke and wet wool. I sat by the window. The glass was dirty. My reflection was faint behind the grime. I watched the landscape blur. It moved like water. I was tired. My bones ached with a cold that had nothing to do with the weather. It was a deep, structural weariness. The kind that settles in the marrow after years of...

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