The Pale Exile
The letter lay on the oak desk, its seal broken, the paper thin and grey as old skin. I read it three times, the words blurring in my vision until the ink seemed to bleed into the grain of the wood. It was a denial of access, signed by Warden Halloway, citing "institutional integrity" and "the sanctity of the patient’s privacy." I looked at the date, October 14th, and then at the clock on the...
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