The Wistful Silence
The steam from the tea had long since dissipated into the chilled air of the compartment, leaving only a faint, bitter residue in the cup that trembled slightly in my hand as the train shuddered through the dark, a rhythmic, metallic chattering that seemed to vibrate not just in the floorboards but in the very marrow of my bones, a persistent, low-frequency hum that matched the hollow ache...
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