The Pale Exile

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2026-08-22 21:18:57 -

The Pale Exile

The demolition permit sat in my palm, the paper thin and damp with sweat, the ink smudged where my thumb had rested on the signature line. I was forty-two, a city inspector with a reputation for efficiency and a tremor in my hands that I blamed on the caffeine, though I knew it was something else, something structural. The St. Jude’s Orphanage stood across the street, a Victorian monstrosity of...

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