The Distant Threshold
You leave the door open. The wind finds the gap. It slips under the frame like a cold finger. It touches your ankle. You do not close it. You know why you do not close it. The room is small. It is square. The walls are stone. The stone is old. It is dark. The only light comes from the window. The glass is dirty. It is thick. It is cracked. One crack runs down the center. It looks like a vein....
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