The Pale Door
The bell above the door of the Assessor’s office did not ring; it clattered, a heavy, metallic death knell that shook the dust from the high rafters and settled into the crevices of your skin. You stood in the center of the room, the air thick with the scent of old varnish and the sharp, metallic tang of fear, watching as the clerk, a man named Mr. Gentry with spectacles that magnified his eyes...
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