The Pale Banner
The rain has been falling on the roof of the Whitmore estate for three days, a persistent, gray drumming that seeps into the bones of the house and the soul of the one who remains there to watch it. You sit in the study, a room lined with first editions that have begun to swell and warp in the humidity, and you watch the water trace its slow, deliberate path down the glass. You are a detective,...
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