The Wistful Asylum
The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray curtain that blurred the edges of the town of Oakhaven into a watercolor wash of slate and rust, and it was under this relentless sky that Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the platform, watching the locomotive cough and shudder as it pulled away, leaving behind a trail of white steam that mingled with the mist and eventually...
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