The Pale Door
The key is cold in your hand. You hold it up to the light. The metal is dull. It has been dull for forty years. You are in the room. The room is small. The walls are white. The air is still. There is a door. The door is pale. It stands in the corner. It does not open. It has no handle. It is just a shape on the wall. A rectangle of different paint. You look at it. You look at the key. The key...
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