The Train to Avignon
The train left Lyon just after dawn, a ribbon of pale light unspooling across the tracks. Through the window, the fog drifted low and deliberate, softening everything it touched—the vineyards, the villages, the skeletal trees.
The train left Lyon just after dawn, a ribbon of pale light unspooling across the tracks. Through the window, the fog drifted low and deliberate, softening everything it touched—the vineyards, the villages, the skeletal trees.