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The brass burned his palm as he spun the door knob. He squinted, fresh autumn air blasted his face. He felt the hairs of his nose disintegrate. His hands cupped his ears, the noise of the passing cars perforating his ear drums. Then he stumbled back into the foyer, kicking the door shut in the process. The timer read twenty-four seconds. He was proud of this time. Now he could relax, not having to try again until tomorrow.

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