The Wistful Show
The brass bell above the door of the Grand Hotel in Oakhaven jingled with a sound that was less a welcome and more a warning, a sharp, metallic bite that cut through the humid, stagnant air of the July evening, and you stood at the threshold, your uniform crisp and white as a bandage, your eyes fixed not on the guest who had just arrived, but on the object that sat in the center of the lobby...
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