The Pale Verdict
The boy woke before the light did. The cold was a solid thing in the room. It pressed against his ribs. He lay still. The sheets were damp. He did not move his arms. He did not move his legs. He watched the dark corner of the cell. The stone was gray. It was wet. A drop of water fell. It hit the floor with a soft sound. He counted the seconds. One. Two. Three. The drop fell again. He was seven...
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