The Wistful Show
The rain lashed against the high, narrow windows of the carriage as Elara Vane pressed her forehead against the cold glass, watching the industrial sprawl of Oakhaven give way to the jagged, rain-slicked hills that crowned the old quarter. She was forty years old, a widow of five years, and the clock in the driver’s cab ticked with a mechanical indifference that felt personal, a rhythmic...
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