The Pale Door
The storm did not break the dam; it broke the seal. I was sitting in my office at the university, the rain lashing against the high, arched windows with a violence that felt personal, when the air in the room grew heavy. It was not a drop in pressure, but a thickening, as if the atmosphere itself had solidified. My hands, resting on the mahogany desk, began to tingle. I looked up, expecting to...
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