The Faded Apartment
The letter lay on the desk, the ink still wet and glistening under the harsh electric light of the office. Arthur Penhaligon picked it up, his fingers trembling slightly as he traced the edge of the paper. It was a simple notice, typed in the cold, precise font of the Vane Textile Company, informing him of his suspension pending an investigation into a discrepancy in the wool shipments from the...
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