The Pale Garden

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2026-08-22 14:42:21 -

The Pale Garden

"Thomas. You here?" The voice belonged to Chief Miller, and it carried the specific, hollow ring of a man who was already deciding how to discard you. I stood in the queue at the front desk of the Ashford Police Station, holding a form for a leave of absence, my fingers stained black with the soot of the textile mill where I had spent the last three nights. The station smelled of wet wool,...

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