The Pale Tale
I was scrubbing the rust from the hinge of Cell Block C when the cough came, a wet, tearing sound that seemed to originate from the bottom of my lungs and travel up through my throat like a fish hook. I spat into the grout line of the linoleum, wiped my mouth with the back of a gloved hand, and returned to the lever. The metal gave a groan, then a snap, and the door swung open with a heavy thud...
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