The Wistful Voyage
The bus groans against the gravel of the unmarked road, a sound that resonates in your molars and settles deep into the hollows of your spine, a low, persistent hum that feels less like engine noise and more like the collective, suppressed exhale of the entire passenger compartment. You sit in the back, pressed into the worn vinyl of the seat, your hands resting on your knees where you hold the...
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