The Pale Garden
The ink on the petition was still wet when you pressed your thumb into it, a dark smear against the stark white of the paper, and the cold air of the office bit into your exposed skin through the thin wool of your uniform. You were Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old, a night watchman at Blackwood Asylum, and you wanted only to get your sister, Martha, out before the winter set in for good. The...
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