The Distant Journey
The letter lay on the oak desk, the paper yellowed at the corners from decades in the archive. It was not a bill, nor a list of inventory, but a resignation form, pre-signed by the junior curator, Sarah, and waiting for Elias to countersign it before the board vote at noon. He stared at the ink, the sharp black line that severed his tenure, and the air in the room felt heavy, thick with a...
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