The Faded Apartment
The resignation form lay on the desk, the paper yellowing at the edges where Elias Thorne’s thumb had pressed it flat against the wood for the last time. He had signed his name in the bottom right corner, the ink still wet, a dark smear that looked less like a signature and more like a bruise. The form was standard issue, a carbon copy of a document that had been rejected four times in the last...
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