The Faded Quadrant
You’re telling me that twenty years of service is worth less than a single procedural lapse? The light in the hallway was gray and flat, the kind that comes from an overcast sky pressing down on the shingles, turning the world into a dull, washed-out photograph. I stood there, holding the phone to my ear, feeling the weight of the silence that followed the supervisor’s words, a silence that...
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