The Pale Protocol
March 12, 2024 The radiator in the restricted wing has been leaking again, or perhaps it is just the pipes groaning under the weight of the night. I am sitting at my desk, the one with the cracked laminate, and I am counting the bills. There are too many. The hospital bill for Maya is thicker than the stack of intake forms I have to process every morning. I need to sell the locket. My mother’s...
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