The Distant Wound

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 02:37:29 -

The Distant Wound

The train to Oakhaven smelled of wet wool and coal dust, a scent that clung to the nose like a stubborn memory. Elias Thorne sat in the corner of the third-class carriage, his hands folded tightly in his lap, fingers interlaced until the knuckles turned white. He was not a large man, nor was he particularly striking in appearance, but there was a stillness to him that made the other passengers...

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