The Pale Bonsai
The banquet hall at the St. Jude’s Institute for Social Rehabilitation smelled of roasted goose, spilled wine, and the faint, metallic tang of industrial floor wax, a scent that clung to the wool of Marcus Thorne’s suit like a second skin, a texture he could feel against his cheek even as he stood amidst the swirling crowd of donors, social workers, and well-dressed patrons who spoke in the...
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