The Pale Protocol
October 14, 1912 Father, the house is quiet today, but only because I have locked the doors and barred the windows against the autumn damp that seems to seep through the very stones of Millhaven. Mother is asleep, her breathing a shallow, rattling thing that I count like the ticks of a clock, each one a small death I must endure to keep her tethered to the world. You ask in your last letter if...
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