The Faded Frontier

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2026-08-19 14:37:43 -

The train hisses. Steam rises. It smells of coal. And iron. You sit. You hold the box. It is heavy. No, it is light. It is everything. The window is a mirror. Your face is pale. Your eyes are dark. You are going home. Or perhaps you are leaving home for good. The distinction blurs. The train moves. The landscape blurs. Fields. Trees. Smoke. The world is grey. The world is loud. The world is...

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