The Wistful Silence

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 12:36:42 -

The clock in the station hall did not tick. It hummed. A low, thrumming vibration that rose through the soles of Elias’s boots and settled in his marrow. The air smelled of ozone and wet wool. Outside, the rain fell in sheets of silver, blurring the gas lamps into halos of sickly yellow. Elias stood by the window. His reflection stared back, a ghost of a man with deep lines carved around his...

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