The Pale Verdict
You are standing in the middle of the room, the air thick with the scent of dust and old paper, and you are shouting, your voice tearing through the quiet like a rip in silk, and you do not know why you are shouting, you do not know why your hands are trembling, you do not know why the word *no* is stuck in your throat like a bone, sharp and jagged, refusing to slide down, refusing to let you...
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