The Faded Sutra

added blog Literature

2026-08-20 01:11:57 -

The Faded Sutra

The train hissed. Steam curled. It smelled of coal and wet wool. I stood on the platform. My hands were cold. The wind cut through my coat. I watched the carriage doors. They were closed. Inside, I saw a face. It was pale. It was still. It looked at me. I looked back. Then the light went out. The train moved. It slid away. The tracks hummed. I remained. I was alone. The station was empty. The...

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