The Pale Fracture
The house was white. It was always white. The paint peeled in long, dry strips, like dead skin, but the color remained. It clung to the eaves. It held the shutters. It blinded the eyes. Elias stood in the hallway. He held a ledger. The ink was black. The numbers were red. He had read them twice. He had read them three times. The sum was wrong. The total did not add. It never did. He looked at...
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