The Pale Tower
The audit report lay open on the desk, the paper brittle and smelling of old dust and pine resin, the ink smudged where Elias’s thumb had pressed too hard against the column of figures. He signed his name, the pen scratching a dry, final line across the signature block, and then he refused to look at the date. The deadline was tomorrow, and the numbers did not add up, not because of an error in...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews