The Faded Dust

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2026-08-20 18:59:16 -

The Faded Dust

The bus shuddered to a halt, the hydraulic sigh of the brakes exhaling a cloud of stale air that smelled of diesel and wet wool, and I stepped out onto the platform of Union Station with the rigid, mechanical precision of someone who has forgotten how to move through space without purpose. It was a Tuesday in November, the kind of day where the sky hangs low and grey over the city like a heavy,...

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