The Wistful Cipher
The intake form was a single sheet of translucent vellum, warm to the touch despite the sterile chill of the room. Elias Thorne did not look at the pen. He looked at the door behind the man in the grey suit. The man was waiting. They were always waiting. "Sign here," the man said. His voice was flat, a low hum like a server farm running in the background of a quiet office. "And here. It’s for...
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