The Distant Whispers
The elevator did not stop at the lobby. It did not stop at any of the numbered floors. It ascended with a smooth, hydraulic hum, a sound that felt less like machinery and more like a held breath. Margaret Holloway stood in the center of the car, her reflection staring back from the polished steel walls. It was a perfect, terrifying mirror. She saw the fine lines around her eyes, the slight...
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