The Pale Bonsai
The light in the laboratory was the color of weak tea, filtering through the grimy panes of the high windows. You had been staring at the slide for an hour, the lens of the microscope catching the dust motes that drifted in the stagnant air. Dr. Arthur Vane, forty years old, a man whose life was measured in petri dishes and peer reviews, wanted only one thing: to publish the thesis on cellular...
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