The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-19 08:47:25 -

The train was late. It was always late. I sat in the carriage with the cracked window, watching the rain streak the glass in long, gray tears. My father’s coat was on my knees. It smelled of wet wool and old tobacco, a scent that had seeped into the lining over decades. I had come to the capital to see him. He was dying. The doctors said so. The silence in his house had grown so thick I could...

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