The Pale Bonsai

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2026-08-22 15:43:34 -

The Pale Bonsai

The ledger sat on the desk, its spine cracked, the pages brittle as dried skin. I counted the hours remaining in my tenure: seventy-two. Three days until the Department of Civic Order decided whether I was fit for the basement or the street. The air in Oakhaven’s archive tasted of copper and old rain, a metallic tang that coated the back of my throat and refused to wash away. I was Elias...

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