The Faded Photograph
The rain had not stopped for three days, a relentless, grey curtain that blurred the horizon where the iron railway line cut through the moor like a jagged scar in the earth. I walked with my back to the wind, the leather of my gloves stiff and cracked, feeling the dampness seep into the very marrow of my bones, a cold that was no longer merely of the flesh but of the spirit, a hollowing out...
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