The Pale Path

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2026-08-18 19:28:39 -

The Pale Path

The train hissed. Steam curled. Cold air bit. Margaret sat. She held her coat. It was wool. Dark blue. Heavy. She wore it for forty years. Now it was thin. The fabric stretched. She pulled it tight. Buttons strained. They were mother of pearl. White. Smooth. They looked like teeth. The ticket inspector tapped. "Ticket." Margaret handed it over. He frowned. "Second class." "I have a first class...

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