The Faded Root
The train does not stop at the station, but you feel the halt in your teeth, a grinding of bone against bone that mimics the shudder of the iron tracks beneath the wheels, a vibration that travels up through the soles of your boots and settles deep in the marrow, a resonance that tells you this is not a place of rest but a place of suspension, a limbo where the air is thick with the scent of...
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