The Wistful Letter
The memo was pinned to the corkboard with a rusted thumbtack, the paper yellowed and soft at the edges. Elias adjusted his spectacles, the cold seeping through his thin cardigan, and read the directive from the Head Archivist: *The Black Wing must be fully cataloged by Friday. Silence is mandatory. Read no text aloud.* He signed the acknowledgment form, the ink bleeding slightly into the porous...
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