The Pale Mist
You wear the coat. It is old. The wool is thin. The elbows are bare. You are Dr. Elias Thorne. You are a scholar of law. You are also a ghost in a house of iron. The room is cold. The air smells of ozone and old paper. The walls are glass. Outside, the city roars. Gears turn. Smoke rises. It is the age of industry. It is the age of power. "Is it true?" The voice is sharp. It cuts the silence....
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