The Pale Verdict
You are the Archivist of the High Road, a title that sounds like a joke until you see the tolls they pay for your silence, and you have worn the same gray wool cloak for forty years, the fabric so thin and threadbare in the elbows and shoulders that the cold air of the moor finds its way into your bones with the intimacy of a lover, and this cloak is not merely clothing but the physical record...
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