The Pale Protocol
The envelope was thick, the paper stiff with the weight of officialdom, and I held it in my hand as if it were a live coal that might burn a hole through my palm and into the meat of my arm. The seal was broken, the wax cracked, and I read the words inside for the third time, my eyes tracing the ink as if it might change, as if the Bureau might have made a clerical error in the name or the...
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