Second coming | The Boy Who Could But Didn't

Second coming

I heard them again this morning.

It wasn’t as loud as before. It sounded more like the rising downpour of a storm – heavy raindrops pattering leaves and concrete, or the gentle hiss of a distant passing train. In fact, I would have thought it either of these if it had lasted more than 10 seconds and we were anywhere near a train track.

It was exactly 7:15 this morning – the hushed clatter of scores of carriages moving past my window.

If anyone has a normal, boring, everyday tellurian and uninteresting explaination, I’d be quite happy to entertain it.

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