The Distant Joke

added blog Literature

2026-08-18 21:06:52 -

The Distant Joke

The train smells of coal dust and wet wool. You sit by the window. The glass is cold against your cheek. It vibrates with the engine’s pulse. Outside, the fields are gray. They stretch out like a bruised flank. You are going home. Or rather, you are going to the place that used to be home. You are an exile now. Not by choice. By silence. The city left you. It took your name and gave it to a...

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