The Pale Banner
The water in the basement is black and still, a perfect mirror for the concrete ceiling above. You are standing on the wet floor, the cold seeping through the soles of your work boots, soaking into the denim of your trousers. The air smells of damp earth, old rust, and the faint, metallic tang of ozone. It is a smell that has defined your life for the last three years, ever since you took over...
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