The Faded Dust
The train hissed against the iron tracks as it pulled into the station, a long, low moan that seemed to carry the weight of the entire industrial age, and you stepped off onto the platform with a suitcase that felt heavier than it had when you left home three days ago, the wood of the handle worn smooth by the grip of your mother’s hands before yours, and you knew, with a certainty that settled...
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