The Pale Echo
The ink on the ledger pages was still wet when I noticed the stain, a dark, viscous smear that looked less like a spill and more like a wound opening beneath the paper, and I sat there in the blue twilight of the counting room, the heavy iron radiator ticking its monotonous heartbeat against the silence, knowing with a cold, visceral certainty that the number I had just written down was not a...
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