The Faded Photograph

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2026-08-21 14:15:03 -

The train cut through the morning mist like a scalpel through flesh, slicing the world into a before and an after that Thomas Halloway could no longer quite distinguish. He sat in the corner of the carriage, his hands resting on his knees, fingers drumming a silent, arrhythmic beat against his trousers. The rhythm was a habit, a tic born of twenty years in the uniform, a way to keep the blood...

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