The Faded Paradox
The steam rose in thick, white plumes from the locomotive’s boiler, a ghostly breath that hung in the cold November air, obscuring the tracks and the distant, jagged silhouettes of the Appalachian ridges. I stood on the gangway, my hands resting on the iron railing, feeling the violent shudder of the engine beneath my boots, a vibration that traveled up through the soles of my shoes and into...
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