The Pale Letter
The envelope sat on the counter, its corner softened by the damp air of the post office, and you held it with fingers that had turned the color of old parchment. It was a standard rectangular piece of stock, but the ink used for the address was a deep, arterial red, a hue that the town of Oakhaven had not seen in decades and which the older clerks refused to touch with anything but a pair of...
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