The Pale Door
The glass didn’t shatter; it exploded. Elias Thorne stood in the center of the atrium, his lungs burning with the taste of ozone and pulverized silica. The Bureau of Anomalous Affairs was dying around him, its digital walls flickering with a static that looked like snow on a dead channel. He looked down. His badge, the silver star he had carried for twenty years, was cracked down the middle....
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