The Golden Greenhouse
The acceptance form lay on the workbench, its edges curling under the weight of a single, heavy thumbprint. Elias stared at the signature line, the ink still wet, a black vein pulsing against the stark white paper. He had not signed it. He could not. The paper was a trap, a bureaucratic net cast over his hands, his lungs, his life. "Read it again," Mara said. She stood in the doorway of the...
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