The Pale Mist
You are standing at the edge of the platform, watching the fog roll in from the river, and you realize that the city has forgotten you, even before you have decided to forget it. The mist is thick, a pale, suffocating blanket that erases the sharp edges of the skyscrapers and turns the steel and glass into a soft, indistinct smear of gray and white. It is a beautiful, terrible thing, this...
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