The Pale Garden
Anca Petrosyan counted forty-seven of the Tannery Steps before the fog swallowed the harbor bells. She was thirty-four, a junior archivist in the Bureau of Records, and her hands were raw from scrubbing the linen of the asylum. The ledger page was in her coat, damp with the sweat of her fear. She needed to restore it by dawn to erase Lev’s debt, the debt that had grown like mold in the mill’s...
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