The Pale Echo
The station master, Elias Thorne, stood on the platform, his hand resting on the railing. The wood was damp. He watched the train recede into the grey mist. It was a small departure. Just a few cars. The air smelled of coal dust and wet wool. Elias did not move. He stayed until the last tail light vanished. Then he walked back to the office. The office was a small room. It had a desk. It had a...
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