The Pale Fracture
The transfer forms were missing. Again. I sat in the cramped office of Sector 4, the radiator clanking its rhythmic, metallic complaint against the cold. My fingers hovered over the keyboard, trembling slightly, not from the chill but from the repetition. For the third time this week, the system had flagged my entry as invalid. I typed my name, Elias Thorne, and my badge number, and the screen...
0 Comments 0 Shares 2 Views 0 Reviews