The Distant Wound
The train did not stop at the station. It slowed to a crawl, a metallic groan that seemed to vibrate in the marrow of Elias’s bones, and then it continued, leaving him standing on the platform with his bag of clothes and his silence. The fog was thick here, a white soup that swallowed the iron rails and the distant hills, blurring the line between the earth and the sky. He was an immigrant in a...
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