The Pale Shadows
We had a rule in the basement. Not one that was written down, not one that was posted on the wall next to the water heater or tucked into the manual for the industrial vacuum, but a rule that hung in the air like the dust motes that danced in the single beam of light cutting through the high, narrow window. The rule was that you did not touch the left hand of the statue. It stood in the corner,...
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