The Fog and the Stars
I The fog rolled in from the Thames like a living thing, swallowing煤气 lamps whole. Arthur Pendleton stood before the headstone, the damp London cold seeping through his woolen coat, and watched his breath dissolve into the grey nothingness around him. Above him on the crag of Highgate Hill, an ant named Brown Climber traced figures into the damp earth with its feelers—9, 5, 2, 0—the numbers of...
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