The Distant Wound

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2026-08-19 14:12:44 -

The Distant Wound

The fog rolled in from the river like a living thing. It swallowed the streetlamps first. Then the brick facades. Then the world. Elias stood on the platform, watching his breath plume and vanish. He was sixty years old. His knees hurt. The cold bit into his fingers. He held a ticket. It was for the last train out of Oakhaven. He had come back for one night. Just one. To say goodbye to the...

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