The Distant Threshold
The door is locked. You know it is locked because you have checked it three times in the last hour. The handle is cold steel, unyielding. You are standing in the center of the room, and the room is small. It is a cell of glass and steel, suspended above the city. The air is recycled, sterile, and tastes of ozone. You are holding a key. It is a brass key, old and heavy. It has a single bit, worn...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 2 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen