The Pale Letter
Mara stood in the dark. The room was a box of shadow. Her hands were wet. She could not see them. She knew they were wet. The skin of her palms slicked with sweat. It was cold. The air bit her lungs. She held something. It was small. It was light. It was heavy. She did not know what it was. She knew it was part of her. The dream had started with the noise. A hum. Low. Industrial. It came from...
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