The Wistful Atlas
The dismissal letter lay on the kitchen table, its white paper stark against the chipped laminate. I stared at the block of text, the bureaucratic font cold and impersonal, listing "irregularities in cataloguing protocols" as the sole cause for my termination. My hands, usually steady enough to handle vellum three centuries old, trembled slightly as I reached for it. The weight of the paper was...
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