The Distant Threshold
The velvet was the color of dried blood, a deep, bruised crimson that had once been the pride of the Sterling & Vance executive suite but had now surrendered to decades of weight and neglect. I ran my thumb over the tear in the armrest, feeling the frayed threads pull against my skin like a warning, and I knew that this chair was not just furniture; it was a monument to a man who had built an...
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