The Pale Shadows
The inventory ledger lay open on the desk, the ink on the final page still wet, smelling of iron and vinegar. It was a list of debts, mostly unpaid, mostly forgotten, but the line for the Grandfather Clock’s maintenance was bold, underlined twice in red by Mr. Ashworth’s hand. I read it three times, the paper feeling slick and gritty under my thumb, until the numbers blurred into a single,...
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