The Distant Wound
The signature line was there, waiting, a thin black scar on the paper that Elias Thorne had to cross to keep his pension. He sat at the desk in the district office, the radiator clanking its metallic rhythm behind him, while Director Halloway watched the clock with the patience of a man who knew he was winning. "You have until Friday, Elias," Halloway said, his voice smooth as oiled timber....
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