The Distant Journey
The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a gray suspension in the air that smelled of wet asphalt and the metallic tang of the subway vents. Elias, twelve years old and thin as a reed, stood on the platform of the 4th Street station, his backpack straps digging into his shoulders. He was waiting for the northbound train, the one that went up to the housing project in Queens, the one his...
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