The Faded Road
The train hissed against the iron rails, a long, drawn-out sigh that seemed to pull the breath out of the station itself. I sat in the corner of the third-class carriage, my hands resting on the leather satchel between my knees, feeling the cold dampness of the November air seep through the wool of my coat. The city outside was a smear of grey soot and yellow gaslight, the smoke from the...
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