The Pale Door
The rain hammered against the tin roof of the barracks. It was a cold, relentless sound. Sergeant Elias Thorne stood by the window. He watched the water run down the glass in long, jagged lines. Captain Halloway walked in. He held a glass of brandy. The liquid swirled, dark and deep. "You look tired, Thorne," Halloway said. His voice was soft. Too soft. "I am," Thorne replied. He did not turn...
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