The Pale Banner
The fluorescent lights of the Pale Banner did not hum; they screamed, a high-pitched, metallic shriek that vibrated in the teeth and settled deep in the marrow. Elias Thorne, thirty-two years old and an archivist by trade, sat at a desk that felt less like wood and more like cold, compressed bone, staring at a file folder that contained the entirety of his own life. He wanted to reach the Exit...
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