The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-20 05:55:39 -

The train leaves. You watch it go. The tracks are wet. The sky is grey. You stand alone. The cold bites. You hold a jar. It is glass. It is heavy. Inside is moss. It is green. It is damp. It is alive. You bought it today. In the market. From an old man. He had kind eyes. He said it would last. He was wrong. You know this. The moss is dying. You watch it fade. The color drains. It turns brown....

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