The Wistful Incense

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2026-08-18 15:51:30 -

The station master’s office smelled of damp wool and old paper, a scent that had settled into the very beams of the wood. You stood before the heavy oak desk, your hands clasped tightly behind your back, feeling the ache in your knuckles. It was a pain you had carried for thirty years, a dull, grinding throb that seemed to pulse in time with the distant chug of the locomotive outside. The man...

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