The Faded Alibi
The fluorescent lights of the fourth-floor analysis suite hummed with a frequency that seemed to drill directly into the base of your skull, a low, electric buzz that had become the background noise of your life over the last three years. You sat at your desk, a sterile island of white laminate in a sea of glass partitions, staring at the rejection email that had landed in your inbox at 4:15...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews