The Pale Path
The wool coat was red. Not the bright, cheerful crimson of a child’s toy, but a deep, arterial shade that seemed to drink the dim gaslight of the factory floor. It hung on the back of a chair in the supervisor’s office, a solitary, bloody accent in a room of gray walls and ticking clocks. Elias saw it often. He saw it when he came to report his hours, when he came to beg for a day’s leave, and...
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