The Distant Threshold
The frost has crept up the glass of your office window until it forms a jagged, white lattice that obscures the view of the quad, trapping you in a box of cold air and the smell of old paper, and you are Elias Thorne, a forty-two-year-old archivist whose tenure review is scheduled for the winter solstice, a date that now feels less like a calendar marker and more like a guillotine blade waiting...
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