The Distant Metropolis
The letter from the Department of Human Resources lay on the kitchen table, its edges curling slightly in the dry heat of the radiator. Elias Thorne held the pen, a cheap Bic with a cracked cap, and hovered over the signature line. The form requested a medical evaluation before finalizing his pension claim, a bureaucratic hurdle that felt less like a procedure and more like a noose tightening...
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