The Distant Machine

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2026-08-21 12:30:43 -

The iron rails sang a low, mournful chord in the pre-dawn mist, a sound that seemed to vibrate directly against the bone of my sternum, and I stood there on the gravel platform of Blackwood Junction, clutching a leather satchel that had grown heavy with the weight of my silence and the damp chill of the November air, while the train, that great lumbering beast of steam and steel, groaned as it...

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