The Distant Affair
The fog did not lift. It thickened. It swallowed the iron rails and the rusted signal boxes until only the breath of the train was visible, a white ghost puffing into the gray void. Arthur Pendelton stood on the platform of Station 9, a place that existed on no map he had ever seen in the archives. He adjusted his cufflinks. They were cold. Colder than the air. Colder than the bone. He was a...
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