The Pale Letter

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2026-08-18 06:56:01 -

The Pale Letter

The rain hit the windowpane with a rhythmic, hollow slap. "It is time," he said. His voice was soft, but it cut through the silence of the room like a blade through silk. He stood by the fire, his back to me. The shadows of the curtains danced behind him, elongated and strange. I did not look at him. I looked at the letter in my hand. The paper was pale, almost translucent. The ink had faded,...

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