The Pale Verdict
The room is cold. You sit in the high-backed chair. The wood is old. It creaks under your weight. You are the King. Or you were. The crown sits on the table. It looks heavy. It looks like a cage. Look at the hands. They are your hands. They are shaking. The veins stand out like roots. You are old. The skin is paper. It tears easily. You touch the edge of the table. It is smooth. It is hard....
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