The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-19 12:09:12 -

The train cut through the fog with a low, mournful whistle, a sound that seemed to pull the air taut. Elias Thorne stood in the carriage, his knuckles white around the strap of his satchel. He was a man who had forgotten how to sleep, not from insomnia, but from the weight of a silence that had grown inside his chest over the last three days. It was a silence that tasted of iron and wet wool....

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