The Wistful Witness
The train to the capital shuddered on the tracks, a rhythmic grinding of iron against iron that vibrated up through the soles of Elena’s boots and settled deep in her teeth. She sat with her hands folded tightly in her lap, her fingers interlaced so hard the knuckles turned white, a physical effort to stop the tremor that had started three weeks ago, a small, persistent shaking that began in...
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