The Pale Bonsai
The rejection letter slid across the mahogany desk with the smooth, oily indifference of a eel, stopping just inches from your knuckles, which were white from the effort of keeping your hands from shaking. "Mr. Thorne, I am sorry to inform you that the claim for your late brother’s final pension has been denied," Director Halloway said, his voice a low, pleasant baritone that seemed to vibrate...
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