The Faded Frontier
The letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet from the printer, smelling of toner and cheap office paper. You read it twice. The council refused to sign the boundary amendment. The reason was vague, a citation of "historical anomalies" in the 1920s maps. You wanted the promotion. You wanted it because the pay was better, because the title meant something, and because you were forty-two and...
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