The Faded River
The letter lay on the linoleum, its edges curling slightly from the humidity of the motel room, the paper slick and cold under Elias Thorne’s thumb. He had read it three times, the bureaucratic syntax looping in his skull like a stuck record, each repetition sharpening the absurdity of the charge: *methodological anomaly due to systemic bias in data acquisition.* Elias, fifty-two, a senior...
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