The Pale Tale

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2026-08-24 12:22:51 -

The Pale Tale

The first thing I counted was the hours. Four hours to go. Then the pages. One hundred and twelve. The ledger sat on the oak table, its spine cracked like dry earth, the leather cover peeling away in flakes that smelled of damp wool and old dust. I was forty-five, a junior archivist in a building that had seen better centuries, and I wanted to finish this restoration before Mr. Halloway...

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