The Pale Tale
"You are late," he said. His voice was flat, devoid of inflection, like a stone dropped into a deep, silent well. I adjusted my tie in the reflection of the office window. The glass was dark, showing only the city beyond, a sprawl of neon and rain. "The elevator was broken. Again." He did not look up from his desk. The light from the monitor cast long, blue shadows across his face, making his...
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