The Golden Song
"You’re holding the page at the wrong angle, Elias. You’re holding it like it’s a confession, not a document." I looked up from the desk, my fingers stained with the grey dust of the archive, and found Director Halloway standing in the doorway, his silhouette framed by the fluorescent hum of the corridor above. I straightened my spine, a motion that had become as automatic and painful as...
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