The Faded Photograph
The orchid was dead, its petals crumbled into a dry, brown dust that clung to the windowsill of the administrative office like the ash of a forgotten fire, and Elias Thorne sat before it with the heavy, suffocating silence of a man who has just been stripped of his name by the very institution that had sworn to protect him, the air in the room thick with the scent of stale coffee and the faint,...
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