The Pale Letter
The train hissed. It was a sound like a dying breath, or perhaps a secret being kept too long. Elias stood on the platform. He held the letter. It was pale. It was thin. It was everything he was not. The town of Oakhaven was waking up. The mist clung to the cobblestones. It looked like old lace. It looked like grief. Elias was twelve. He wore a coat that was too big. It had belonged to his...
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