The Distant Crown
The train screamed into the valley. It was a jagged sound, tearing the fog apart. We sat in the dark. The air tasted of rust and cold iron. My wife, Elara, held my hand. Her fingers were thin. They trembled against my palm. I did not look at her. I looked at the window. The glass was dirty. A smear of mud marked the glass like a bruise. Outside, the hills rose up. They were silent giants. They...
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