The Distant Nightmare
The train arrived at 4:15 in the afternoon, cutting through the gray wool of the fog that clung to the industrial district of Blackwood like a shroud that had been washed too many times. Elias Thorne stepped off the carriage with a suitcase that felt heavier than his legs, the wheels clicking against the gravel platform with a rhythmic, mechanical persistence that seemed to count down the...
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