The Pale Letter

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2026-08-20 11:57:10 -

The Pale Letter

The rain had been falling for three days, a persistent, gray drizzle that turned the garden into a slurry of mud and rotting leaves. I sat in my study, the heavy oak door shut against the damp, listening to the water drip from the eaves onto the stone path below. It was a rhythm I had come to know well over the past decade, a metronome for my thoughts, which were often as cold and wet as the...

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