The Pale Verdict
The train rattled. It was a bad sound. I hated it. My hands shook. I put them in my lap. I kept them still. I looked out the window. The trees went by. They were brown. They were bare. They looked dead. I looked at my hands. They were pale. They were thin. They were mine. I had to go. I had to go home. Home was a place. It was a town. It was cold. It was quiet. It was ours. We lived there. Me...
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