The Wistful Atlas

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2026-08-18 03:19:35 -

The Wistful Atlas

The rain did not fall so much as it hovered, a fine, gray mist that clung to the windows of the bus and the hair of the passengers, creating a world that felt suspended between the living and the dead. Margot sat in the back row, her hands folded tightly in her lap, knuckles white against the damp wool of her coat. She was watching her own reflection in the dark glass, a ghostly overlay of a...

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