The Pale Altar

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2026-08-20 20:30:54 -

The Pale Altar

The room was small. It smelled of damp wool and old paper. Margaret sat in the corner. Her hands were still. She watched the door. It was a church. Or it had been. Now it was a room. The pews were gone. The altar remained. It stood in the center. Stone. White. Cold. She had come to find the truth. The client was dead. The client was always dead. That was the rule. Margaret looked at her watch....

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