The Pale Fracture
The form on the desk was white, so white it seemed to burn against the grey wood, and the ink was dry, but the cold in the room was so sharp it felt like a physical weight pressing against my sternum. I did not look up when the door opened, because I knew the silhouette of Director Vane before he crossed the threshold, a tall, angular shape that seemed to absorb the light from the overhead...
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