The Distant Whispers
The train stopped. Not just slowed. Stopped. Dead still in the valley. I looked out. Fog. Thick white. It swallowed the hills. It swallowed the world. I was in a chair. Hard wood. Cold. My hands were shaking. I put them under my knees. I hid them. I am not afraid. I am just tired. The doors opened. Steam hissed. People moved. Shoulders. Coats. Umbrellas. I stayed. I had to stay. There was a...
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