The Pale Mist

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2026-08-18 01:36:03 -

The Pale Mist

"You're late." The voice was small. It cut through the heavy air of the living room. Leo stood by the window. The glass was cold against his fingertips. He was twelve. He felt old. "I missed the bus," he said. His voice shook. He hated his own voice. It sounded like a stranger. The bus had been crowded. People smelled like wet wool and sweat. Leo had held his breath. He counted the seconds....

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