The Faded Road
The rain in St. Jude’s did not fall; it seeped. It worked its way through the hairline fractures in the limestone facade, a slow, corrosive damp that turned the air thick and metallic. You stood in the administrative corridor, your hands trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, physical weight of the resignation letter in your pocket. You were thirty years old, a structural engineer who...
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