The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-20 10:35:36 -

The Pale Bonsai

The air in the Ministry of Public Works tasted of rust and cold tea. You sat at the edge of the mahogany table, your fingers stained with the blue ink of a pen that had not been refilled in three days. Across from you, Secretary Halloway adjusted his spectacles. They were thick, round things that magnified his eyes into wet, glistening orbs, hiding the calculation that lived behind them. "You...

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