The Pale Tale
Chapter One The refugee quarter of Thessaloniki moved with the heavy, grinding inertia of a machine that had been running too long without oil, where the fog did not roll in so much as it settled like a damp wool blanket over the narrow streets, muffling the clatter of carts and the distant, hollow clang of the school bell across the valley. Thanasis Stefanou, a clerk of thirty-two years whose...
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