The Golden Quest
The application was denied. Mr. Thorne did not shout. He did not slam his hand on the desk or raise his voice in a theatrical display of bureaucratic rage. He simply slid the parchment across the mahogany surface, the movement slow and deliberate, like a man placing a stone on a grave. The paper smelled of dust and old ink. I reached for it, my fingers trembling slightly, and read the words...
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