The Pale Exile

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2026-08-20 05:18:52 -

The Pale Exile

The rain tapped against the glass of the train car. A steady, rhythmic drumming. It was the sound of leaving. My sister, Clara, stood by the window. She did not look at me. Her reflection stared back, pale and hollow. I sat across from her. My bag was heavy. It contained my papers. My life. "You should have spoken up, David," she said. Her voice was thin. Stripped of warmth. "I did," I replied....

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