The Pale Verdict
The envelope was thick, cream-colored, and smelled faintly of the lemon polish Vance used on his desk, a scent that had begun to permeate the very air of the actuarial department until it felt like breathing in a room where someone had been crying. I opened it at my workstation, the fluorescent lights buzzing their low, electric hymn above me, and read the letter twice, my fingers trembling not...
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