The Pale Mist
The fog that rolls off the Thames into the administrative complex of New London is not merely weather; it is a physical substance, a pale, viscous membrane that clings to the brickwork of the Bureau and seeps into the pores of the men who work within its walls. I am Elias Thorne, a night-shift archivist, and for the past fourteen years I have served this institution with a devotion that the...
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