The Faded Road
The ink was drying before the pen had fully left the page. It was a specific shade of violet, a chemical compound that did not mix well with the damp air of the corridor. Thomas Bradshaw watched it seep into the grain of the parchment, a small, dark stain spreading like a bruise. He was a man of precise measurements, a technician of the state, and the stain violated the geometry of his ledger....
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