The Golden Master
Thorne. The name hung in the air, sharp and cold, before I could answer. Director Halloway stood in the doorway of my office, his coat still dusted with the grey snow that had been falling since dawn. He did not enter. He simply watched me, his face a mask of bureaucratic patience, while the lamp on my desk flickered in the draft. I looked down at my hands. They were trembling. The skin over my...
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