The Pale Garden

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 17:26:49 -

The Pale Garden

The train whistle cut the air like a knife. I watched the taillights vanish into the gray fog. Elias did not look back. He walked straight to the edge of the platform, his coat flapping in the wind. I stood there. The cold bit my cheeks. You are leaving, I said. My voice sounded thin. Small. Elias turned. His face was pale. The shadows under his eyes were deep. He looked like a ghost. A ghost...

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