The Faded Photograph
The train did not so much stop at the station as it collapsed into the fog, a heavy, iron beast exhaling steam that smelled of sulfur and wet ash, settling onto the tracks with a groan of metal on metal that seemed to vibrate through the soles of Thomas’s boots and into the marrow of his bones. He stood on the platform, a boy of twelve years with hands that were too large for his wrists and a...
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