The Pale Mist

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2026-08-25 04:06:24 -

The Pale Mist

The vial of saline solution sat in my palm, cold and heavy, the plastic crinkling slightly as I adjusted my grip. I was thirty-four years old, the town coroner for Harrow Creek, and I was sitting in my office with Marcus, who was dying. The air in the room was thick, not with humidity, but with that pervasive, pale mist that had seeped into every crack of the town for the last three weeks. It...

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