The Wistful Witness
The fog that rolled in from the Atlantic did not merely obscure the landscape of the coastal town of Harrow’s End; it swallowed it whole, a dense, gray maw that erased the sharp angles of the Victorian architecture and the jagged teeth of the cliffside, reducing the world to a singular, breathing expanse of white void where the boundary between the living and the dead, the sinner and the saint,...
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