The Pale Verdict
Act I There is a specific sound that a building makes when it is empty, a low, structural groan that settles in the bones before the ears register it, and I have learned to sleep through it. I am Sofia Theodorou, the night auditor at the Hotel Ithaca, a place that exists in the off-season only as a skeleton of white walls and cold air, where the only heat comes from the boiler in the basement...
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