The Pale Mist

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2026-08-21 22:41:12 -

The Pale Mist

The coat was a thing of terrible beauty, a midnight blue wool that had once been stiff and proud but now hung from the door hook in the hallway of the small, damp cottage in Harrowgate like a shed skin, its elbows rubbed to the color of bone and its hem frayed into a tangle of threads that caught on the scuffed floorboards. Margaret had worn it for thirty years, first when she was young and the...

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