The Pale Protocol
The first thing I noticed was the smell. Not the sterile, chemical bite of the hospital corridors that had become my second skin, but a damp, metallic tang, like old pennies left in the rain. It clung to the back of my throat, stubborn and persistent. "Did you find it?" I asked, my voice sounding thin in the narrow space of the supply closet. Margaret did not look up from the shelf where she...
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