The Pale Verdict
I woke with the taste of copper in my mouth. The dream was gone, but the residue remained, a metallic film over the tongue that no amount of water would wash away. I sat up. The ceiling of the hospital room was white. Too white. It hummed with a low frequency that seemed to vibrate in my teeth. I was seventy-two years old. My body felt heavy, like wet sand packed into a suit. The door opened....
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