The Wistful Atlas

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2026-08-19 20:26:07 -

The Wistful Atlas

The fog rolled off the river in thick, grey sheets that smelled of coal smoke and wet rot, wrapping around the chassis of the wagon like a burial shroud. I sat in the driver’s seat with my hands resting loosely on the reins, feeling the cold seep through the leather gloves, and I watched the figure walking beside us through the mist. Thomas walked with a limp that had deepened over the last ten...

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