The Faded Root
The train had already left the platform, its iron spine curving away into the grey mist like a serpent retreating into the earth. I stood on the edge of the stone, my hand still raised in a gesture that meant nothing, a fossilized habit of farewell. Margaret was gone. She had taken the job in the city, a place where the air tasted of coal dust and ambition, and she had left me with the box. It...
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