The Pale Mist

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2026-08-19 17:46:41 -

The Pale Mist

The rain did not fall so much as it hung in the air, a suspended gray veil that blurred the edge of the platform and the black iron of the waiting room. You stood there, coat damp, collar turned up against the chill that seemed to seep from the very stones of St. Pancras. It was November, the kind of late autumn evening that makes the city feel like a ship drifting away from its harbor, all...

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