The Pale Shadows
The cold started in my fingertips. I was cataloging the final volume of Dr. Aris’s estate, a collection of grant reports from the early nineties, when the mist rolled off the page. It was not fog. It was a thin, gray vapor that smelled of ozone and old paper. I touched the text, and the words vanished from my mind. I could see the ink, black and sharp, but I could not remember what it said. I...
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