The Pale Tale
Elias, stop fidgeting with that gear lever, you’ll wear it out before we even reach the bend, Thomas said from the passenger seat, his voice thin and dry like old paper, and you kept your eyes on the road, on the white blur of the fog that had swallowed the valley floor, because you knew if you looked at him, if you really looked at the way his hands rested on his knees, limp and useless, you...
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