The Bunker Door Was Warm

I slipped off the main path at Labrador Nature Reserve and found that half-buried bunker slit again—the one everyone pretends isn’t there.

My palm touched the metal edge… warm. Not sun-warm. Body-warm.

Inside smells like wet coins + sea salt, and there’s this tiny drip… drip… like someone pacing in the dark.

A jogger passed and muttered, “Don’t go in, bro.” I still leaned closer and my phone mic caught a low hum that wasn’t the wind.

Tell me you’d back out. Go on. Lie to me 😅