The Wistful Campus
The train had already left the station when Elias realized he had left his coat on the bench. He did not turn back. The cold was a familiar friend, a sharp edge that cut into his bones and reminded him that he was still alive, still here, still in the body that had survived the trenches of Ypres and the mud of the Somme. He stood at the end of the platform, the steam from the departing...
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