The Faded Sutra
The rain did not fall so much as it was expelled from the sky, a relentless, grey sleet that turned the streets of the city into a mirror of mud and rust. Eleanor Ashworth stood on the platform of the old station, her coat soaked through, watching the 8:15 to the coast vanish into the fog. She had come to say goodbye to a building that no longer existed in the eyes of the world, but which still...
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