The Wistful Atlas
The box was heavy, made of cardboard that had turned the color of weak tea. You set it on the desk between you and Director Halloway, the wood grain darkening under the weight. Halloway did not look at the box. He looked at you, his smile a thin, bright line that did not reach his eyes. He was a man of light steps and loose ties, a creature of ease in a world of rigid lines. You, Elias Thorne,...
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