Morgan loves the railway. The platform, the ticket office, the waiting room, the shining rails. The trains, running neatly to the schedule, keeping time.
At the same time, Morgan hates the railway. The platform, the ticket office, the waiting room, the shining rails. The rigidity of the timetable, the neat columns of hours and minutes dictating the movements of the lumbering trains, the way his days are always the same.
There’s nothing special about Morgan. Until he’s asked by a small, sticky child, who believes he’s magic, how he makes the trains come, and he learns that perhaps he IS magic and perhaps time isn’t his master, but his servant…
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