The Faded Alibi
The fog does not merely obscure the valley of the Severn; it possesses it, a cold, white tide that swallows the iron girders of the bridge and the rusted bones of the abandoned railway line, turning the world into a suspension of memory and mist where the boundary between the solid earth and the ethereal air dissolves into a gray, breathing nothingness. You stand at the edge of the old signal...
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