The Faded River
The file was light in your hands, lighter than the soil you had spent the last decade measuring. It felt like a lie made of paper. You stood in the office of Marcus Hale, the regional director of water resources, while he leaned back in a chair that cost more than your car. He smiled, a thin, practiced expression that did not reach his eyes. "Denied," he said, tapping the folder. "Final review....
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