The Wistful Incense
The letter arrived on a Tuesday, sealed with wax the color of dried blood. Leo held it in his trembling hands. The paper was thick, heavy as a stone. He had expected a bill. He had expected a notice from the council. He did not expect the name of the Director. The Director of the Bureau of Harmonic Integrity. Leo was twelve. He lived in the gray box of his apartment, a windowless cube on the...
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