The Wistful Dinner
The train does not arrive so much as it exhales into the platform, a long, shuddering breath of steam and iron that dissolves the boundary between the world you know and the one you are about to enter, where the tracks curve away into a fog so thick it feels less like weather and more like a substance you can wade through, a grey slurry that swallows the headlamps whole until you are left...
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