The Distant Threshold
The dream is always the same. You stand before a door made of dark oak, handle cold as river stone. Behind it lies your childhood bedroom, wallpapered in peeling yellow roses, the air thick with the scent of old paper and regret. You wake with the taste of dust on your tongue, the clock in your apartment reading 4:12 AM. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a senior actuary at Sterling & Vance, a...
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