The Pale Fracture
Thorne, you are behind on the inventory. The voice came from the doorway, dry as the dust that coated the shelves, and I looked up from the ledger to find Director Halloway standing in the threshold of the archive room. He did not step inside. He never did. He stood in the corridor where the light from the streetlamps outside cut sharp, grey triangles across the linoleum, his hands clasped...
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