The Wistful Silence

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2026-08-20 06:38:44 -

The train slowed in the gray morning fog. I sat by the window. The glass was cold. My breath misted it. I wiped it away. The view was a blur of brick and steel. The city of Oakhaven. I had not been here in ten years. I was a man of wood. A luthier. I built violins. My hands knew the grain. My hands knew the curve. But my mind was elsewhere. My mind was in the past. I carried a case. It was...

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