The Pale Door
You are walking, and the walking has become the entirety of your being, a rhythmic pounding that echoes in the hollows of your chest and thunders against the damp, rotting wood of the door you carry, a door that was once the heart of a house, now merely a heavy, splintered burden of your own making. The wood is pale, stripped of its varnish by years of rain and the abrasive grit of the earth...
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