The Faded Apartment
The train from Vienna to Prague did not so much arrive as it ceased, a sudden halt that threw Margaret’s body forward into the hard plastic seat ahead of her. She sat there, breathing through her nose, counting the seconds until the doors opened. Fourteen. Fifteen. Sixteen. The air in the carriage was stale, recycled, smelling faintly of damp wool and the metallic tang of fear that seemed to...
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