The Wistful Asylum
Elias. "Here, Elias. Hold this for a moment." The voice was sharp, cutting through the damp air of the station. I looked up from my ledger. My supervisor, Mr. Halloway, was holding out a stack of invoices, his face tight with the specific irritation of a man who has been waiting too long for a clerk to finish counting. I took the papers. They were cold. They were always cold in that office, the...
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