The Distant Clue
The train exhaled a plume of white steam into the grey morning, a ghost escaping the iron beast. Elias Thorne stood on the platform, his hand resting on the cold metal railing. He did not look at the crowd. He looked at the horizon, where the tracks vanished into the fog. His father’s coat hung on the hook nearby, heavy with dust and the scent of pipe tobacco. It was a relic now. A weight he...
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