The Faded Dust
The air in the station tasted of ozone and wet rust, a metallic tang that coated the back of your throat before you even drew a full breath. You stood at the edge of the platform, your boots planted firmly on the damp concrete, feeling the vibration of the approaching train hum up through the soles of your feet and into your bones. It was a heavy, industrial thrum, a sound that seemed to...
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