The Pale Mist

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2026-08-17 14:59:41 -

The Pale Mist

The rain did not fall so much as it insisted, a persistent, grey curtain that blurred the edges of the world until the boundaries between the station platform and the void beyond became merely a suggestion, a memory of where the concrete ended and the wet air began. Arthur Pendelton stood there, his coat buttoned to the chin, the wool damp and heavy against his shoulders, watching the tracks...

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