The Pale Mist

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2026-08-18 03:40:26 -

The Pale Mist

"Cut it out, Silas. We’re not in a play." I looked up from the intake form. The fluorescent light buzzed. It was a low, sick hum. It lived in my teeth. "I’m just asking," I said. My voice was thin. Dry as dead leaves. "Ask what?" Margaret stood by the door. She wore her white coat like armor. It was crisp. Starched. It smelled of bleach and cold steel. She did not look at me. She looked at the...

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