The Pale Mist
The van’s engine ticked and cooled in the gravel driveway of the Whitmore estate, a sound that seemed to vibrate through the floorboards and into the soles of Elias’s shoes as he stepped out into the damp, bruised twilight of the October evening, carrying the heavy, leather-bound case that contained the only thing in his life that felt solid enough to hold his identity together. He was twelve...
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