The Pale Verdict
The building stood. It did not move. It did not blink. It was a slab of gray concrete and glass, rising nine stories into a sky that never seemed to change color. Margaret sat in her desk on the fourth floor. The desk was wood. The chair was metal. The air was still. She had worked there for ten years. Ten years of silence. Ten years of typing. Ten years of looking at the walls. The walls were...
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