The Pale Mist

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2026-08-23 11:18:09 -

The Pale Mist

The ledger said fourteen shillings. I counted them out on the sticky counter, the coins clinking like dry bones in a tin. Fourteen. Enough for three days of coal, if I rationed the water. My hands shook, not from cold, though the cellar was damp enough to rot wood, but from the hollow ache in my stomach that had been gnawing at my ribs since dawn. I was Elias, thirty-two, and I was out of time....

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