The Faded Road
The tea in the cracked porcelain cup had long since turned cold and bitter, a dark, stagnant pool that reflected not the fluorescent lights above, but the fractured geometry of the desk itself, where the chipped edge of the cup seemed to mock the integrity of the paperwork stacked before me. I am Elias Thorne, and for twenty years I have occupied this particular square of linoleum in the...
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