The Pale Banner
The bus idles. The engine hums a low, sick note. You are the driver. You have been the driver for forty years. The route is a loop. It is a loop through the town of Harrowgate. You know the potholes. You know the cracks in the pavement. You know the way the light hits the window at 4:15 PM. It is a specific shade of grey. It is the color of old ash. The town watches you. They do not look at...
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