The Pale Letter
The furnace in the basement of St. Jude’s Orphanage did not merely heat the air; it consumed the very essence of the building, a ravenous mouth that swallowed coal and silence in equal measure, and Elias Thorne, the man who had spent forty years feeding that mouth with his own sweat and fractured dignity, stood before it now with his hands trembling not from the cold that gnawed at his bones...
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