The Pale Door
The resin gun hissed in Elias’s hands, the nozzle clogging with a sludge that smelled of wet chalk and old blood. He squeezed the trigger, forcing the industrial epoxy into the crack that ran like a vein down the basement wall, but the substance did not bond; it shattered against the surface, turning into brittle, white fragments that clattered to the concrete floor like broken teeth. The house...
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