The Faded Bouquet
You are standing in the hallway of St. Jude’s, the linoleum cold against the soles of your shoes, and you are waiting for the Director to come out of his office, where he is likely counting the coins you just handed him, or perhaps he is simply enjoying the silence of his own power, the way a cat enjoys the sun on a windowsill before it decides to pounce. The air here tastes of stale coffee and...
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