The Pale Door
The window was cracked. That was the first thing you noticed. Not the dust, not the silence, but the jagged line of glass that ran from the top left corner down to the handle. It looked like a vein of lightning frozen in time. You stood in the hallway of the Whitmore Estate, your shoes clicking softly on the marble, and you felt the weight of the investigation settle into your bones. It was a...
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