The Wistful Mirror
The letter lay on the desk, the paper thin as onion skin, the ink a faded violet that had dried into a crackle. It was a standard form, Form 7-B, Request for Extended Access to Restricted Archives, signed by Halloway with a flourish that looked more like a spasm than a signature. I had wanted the tenure. I had wanted the quiet dignity of the National Institute of Antiquities, the smell of dust...
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