The Faded Bouquet
The letter from the Civil Service Pension Board lay on the desk, its edges yellowed and soft as old cloth. You read it three times, the ink blurring slightly under the weak gaslight. It stated, in a font that seemed to shrink with every line, that your claim for your mother’s final six years of service was denied due to missing documentation of tenure in the East Wing. You folded it into a...
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