The Faded Guest
The bus smelled of wet wool and diesel, a heavy, suffocating scent that clung to the inside of my nose as I pressed my forehead against the cold glass. Outside, the rain had not stopped for three days, turning the grey sky into a solid sheet of lead that blurred the edges of the world into a soft, indistinct smear of mud and asphalt. We were moving slowly through the industrial outskirts of...
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