The Pale Protocol
The letter is found, years later, in the lining of a heavy wool coat that hangs in the back of a closet in a house that no longer belongs to you, the paper brittle as a dried leaf, the ink faded to the color of a bruise that will not quite heal. You are reading it in the present tense, or perhaps the past tense, for the distinction has blurred in the silence of the attic where the dust motes...
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