The Distant Joke
The train to the coast moves with a rhythmic, hollow clatter that vibrates through the soles of your boots and settles deep in your chest, a low-frequency hum that feels less like travel and more like a slow, mechanical digestion of time. You sit in the upper berth of the sleeper car, the window frosted with condensation, watching the blur of gray fields and skeletal trees slide past in a...
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