The Wistful Letter
The train carriage shuddered as it crested the final ridge, the iron wheels screaming a high, thin note against the rusted tracks that seemed to vibrate through the soles of my shoes and into the marrow of my bones. We were moving at a speed that felt less like travel and more like a violent expulsion from the world I had known, the landscape outside the grimy glass windows blurring into a...
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