The Pale Banner
The fever has been in the walls for three days, a low, humming resonance that you can feel in your teeth before you hear it in your ears, a structural failure that is not of brick or mortar but of spirit, of the collective will to endure the long, wet autumn that has settled over the valley like a heavy, suffocating shroud. You sit in the drafting room, the air thick with the smell of wet wool...
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