The Pale Shadows
The ink had dried on the ledger before Arthur realized his hand had stopped moving. He sat at the heavy oak desk in the basement office, the air thick with the scent of damp wool and old paper. Outside, the factory whistle blew for the end of the shift. A sharp, metallic sound that cut through the silence of the house. Arthur did not look up. He watched the black stain on the page. It was a...
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