The Pale Dance

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2026-08-19 23:46:05 -

The Pale Dance

The ink had not dried on the ledger, and the smell of it, that sharp, metallic tang of iron gall, was the only thing that kept me tethered to the reality of the office, a reality that was slowly dissolving into the damp, breathing fog of the mill. I sat alone in the counting room, the heavy oak desk before me a barrier against the encroaching dark, my hands resting on the spine of a book that...

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