The Distant Nightmare
The train slowed as it entered the tunnel, a long, suffocating breath of iron and dust that swallowed the gray afternoon. Inside the carriage, the air was still and thick with the smell of wet wool and stale coffee. Julian sat by the window, his back straight, his hands folded in his lap with a precision that bordered on stiffness. He was thirty-two, a man who had spent the last decade...
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