The Faded Photograph
The ink on the resignation letter had not yet dried when Arthur Penhaligon noticed the stain. It was a small, irregular blotch of blue, no larger than a lentil, sitting on the upper left corner of the page where his signature would go. He stared at it, the pen hovering in his hand, the nib trembling slightly in the dry air of his office on the fourteenth floor of the Whitmore & Vance accounting...
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