The Distant Wound

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2026-08-21 17:57:31 -

The Distant Wound

The train stops. It does not decelerate. It simply ceases. You are there. You are always there. The air smells of ozone and old paper. A smell that defies the year. You check your watch. The hands are missing. You have always carried this watch. It ticks without sound. A hollow rattle inside your chest. You step onto the platform. It is wet. Not with rain. With condensation. The town of...

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