The Distant Crown
The train pulls away with a shudder that you feel in the marrow of your bones, a mechanical groan that echoes the hollow ache in your chest, leaving behind a platform that dissolves into the gray mist of the industrial dawn, where the iron girders of the station arch like the ribs of a dead leviathan, holding up a sky that refuses to brighten. You are still standing there, your hands clutching...
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