The Archivist's Gaze
Mr. Henderson had spent forty-two years in the basement of the Municipal Archives, a place where the air was thick with the smell of decaying glue and the silence was absolute. He was a man of precise movements and an iron-clad devotion to the alphabet. To Henderson, a misplaced folder was not just an error; it was a moral failing. For decades, he had been the invisible gatekeeper of the city's...
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