The Pale Tale
The train rattles over the iron sleepers, a rhythmic shudder that travels up through the soles of your boots and settles in the marrow of your bones, a vibration that feels less like motion and more like the slow, persistent beating of a heart that has forgotten how to rest. You sit in the corner of the second-class car, the leather upholstery cracked and stained with the ghosts of a thousand...
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