The Pale Dance
The train hissed to a halt in the gray throat of the station, a long, shuddering exhalation of steam that curled into the damp November air and dissolved against the soot-stained brick of the platform, where Eleanor stood with her luggage strapped to her wrist like a shackle and her eyes fixed on the departing tail lights of the carriage that had carried her away from the life she had spent...
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