The Faded Root
The sealant tube was cold in Elias Thorne’s hands, the plastic casing slick with condensation that had nothing to do with the damp air. He squeezed the nozzle, forcing a thick bead of gray putty into the hairline fracture running down the plaster of the hallway wall, the motion as mechanical and precise as the stamping of a border crossing form. The crack resisted, then snapped shut under the...
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