The Distant Clue
The train pulls out, and you don’t look back. That is the first mistake. Or perhaps the last. It depends on how you slice the silence that follows. You are standing on the platform at Oakhaven, a town that exists in the gray static between one decade and the next, where the bricks are red but the air is always the color of wet wool. You are holding a bag that feels heavier than it should....
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