The Pale Altar

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2026-08-19 09:44:59 -

The Pale Altar

The train was late, which was a peculiar sort of comfort, a slow bleed of time that allowed me to sit in the window seat and watch the industrial skeleton of the North Country unspool in a grey, soot-stained ribbon, the smoke from the factories hanging low and heavy like a shroud that refused to rise, and I held the small, cold bottle of my father’s tincture in my lap, its glass body smooth and...

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