The Faded Photograph
The train hissed into the station of Greyport, a beast of iron and steam exhaling its last breaths into the November fog. Elias Thorne stepped onto the platform, his boots finding the wet cobblestones with the caution of a man walking on thin ice. He was not a traveler in the romantic sense. He was a refugee from his own name, a man whose identity had been filed down by the friction of...
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