The Pale Mist

added blog Literature

2026-08-19 09:41:50 -

The Pale Mist

The fog did not roll in; it exhaled. It rose from the streets of Chicago like a living breath, thick and gray, swallowing the steel ribs of the city until only the highest spires poked through the milk-white air. I stood on the fire escape of my fourth-floor walk-up, my fingers cold against the rusted railing, watching the mist consume the world. It was a beautiful, terrible thing, this slow...

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