The Pale Tale
The train hummed a low, monotonous note as it cut through the gray mist of the industrial district, a sound that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of my bones rather than in my ears. I sat by the window, watching the blurred streaks of factories and tenement blocks slide past, each one a variation on the theme of decay that had defined my life for the last thirty years. In my lap, resting on my...
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