The Faded Paradox
The train left at dawn. I watched the tail lights fade. Two red eyes. Then nothing. Just the grey mist hanging over the tracks. I stood on the platform. My boots were wet. The cold bit into my fingers. I am a sinner. Or at least, I used to be. My name is Thomas Bradshaw. I live in Harrowgate. It is a small town. Built on iron and coal. The air tastes of rust. The sky is always bruised. I work...
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