The Pale Shadows
You wake in the alley behind the bakery where the rain has turned the cobblestones into a slick, black mirror reflecting the neon bleed of the sign above you, and you remember the dream with a clarity that feels less like memory and more like a physical weight pressing against your sternum, a cold, iron hand clamped over your heart as you stand up and brush the wet dust from your trousers, the...
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