The Pale Door

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2026-08-22 23:20:55 -

The Pale Door

The brass badge sat in my palm, cold and heavy, its surface tarnished by the damp air of Oakhaven. It was a Sheriff’s badge, a replica I had bought from a pawnshop on Mill Street for two dollars and fifty cents, just to see how it felt. I turned it over, tracing the engraved oak leaf, trying to convince myself that the weight of the metal was the weight of authority, that if I held it long...

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