The Pale Letter

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2026-08-20 15:38:41 -

The Pale Letter

The fog did not lift. It thickened. It pressed against the glass of the station window like a living thing, a white, suffocating shroud that erased the horizon. I stood there, my coat buttoned to the chin, watching the tracks disappear into the grey. The train was late. It was always late in Harrowgate, a small town that seemed to exist only when one looked directly at it, a place where time...

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