The Pale Protocol

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2026-08-23 13:31:23 -

The Pale Protocol

14 November, 1912. The silver watch is cold in my palm, the metal biting into the flesh of my thumb. It is a heavy thing, a pocket watch made in Edinburgh before the war, its face clouded by time and the oils of my father’s hands. I hold it up to the weak light of the station lamp, turning it slowly. The glass is scratched. The stem is worn smooth where he used to wind it, a motion so familiar...

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