The Pale Letter
The fire that consumed the library of St. Jude’s Academy did not roar with the violent, jagged hunger of a wildfire, but rather exhaled a long, wet, and suffocating sigh that curled around the eaves and choked the air with a sweetness like rotting peaches, and in the center of that collapsing edifice of paper and binding glue, you stood with your hands pressed flat against the window glass,...
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