The Distant Ghost

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2026-08-19 08:09:59 -

The Distant Ghost

The rain in Bristol did not fall so much as it hovered, a thick, grey veil that smelled of wet wool and old copper, clinging to the windows of the St. Jude’s Logistics Hub like a shroud that refused to be lifted. I sat in my cubicle, a beige island in a sea of identical beige islands, watching the droplets trace their slow, inevitable paths down the glass. My name is Arthur Penhaligon, and for...

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