The Faded Quadrant
The train leaves at dawn. You pack the box. It is heavy. The wood is oak. It smells of varnish and old smoke. You put it in the trunk. You close the lid. You do not look at the nameplate. You know what it says. You are a man who follows rules. You have always followed rules. The uniform fits you well. The brass buttons shine. They catch the light of the gas lamps outside your window. You are...
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