The Pale Protocol
The rain hit the windowpane in sheets. It was the only sound in the room. I looked at my hand. It was steady. "You're shaking," said Elias. He sat across from me. His eyes were red. He held a glass of water. He did not drink. "I am not," I said. "You are." I looked at the hand again. It was pale. The veins were blue. I traced the lines on the palm. I knew them by heart. "Is it done?" he asked....
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