The Wistful Witness
The form lay on the metal table, its edges curling slightly against the cold steel. It was a standard clearance request, Form 14-B, the paper thin and brittle from years of handling. Elias Thorne ran his thumb over the signature line. The ink was already smudged. He had not touched it, yet the black letters blurred into a grey smear, as if the document were sweating. Outside the window, the...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews