The Pale Protocol
The letter is dated the fourteenth of November, though the ink has faded to the color of dried blood in the creases, and you hold it in your hands now, forty years later, as if the paper might still hold the warmth of the room where it was written. You are standing in the archive, the air dry and smelling of dust and old glue, and you are looking for the record of your own erasure, for the...
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