The Pale Bonsai
October 14th The red stamp on your file is the size of a coin, bright as a wound against the beige paper. You hold it under the fluorescent hum of the municipal office, watching the ink bleed slightly into the fibers, a small, wet circle of authority that Director Vance pressed down with a force that felt personal. You have served this town for twenty years, twenty years of walking the gray...
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