The Distant Metropolis
The steam from the locomotive does not merely obscure the platform; it devours it, a thick, sulfurous fog that smells of coal dust and old iron, wrapping around your ankles and rising to choke your lungs as you stand there with your duffel bag heavy in your hand, the leather straps cutting into your wrists with a familiarity that feels less like pain and more like a brand, a mark of the office...
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