The Wistful Incense
The renewal form weighed exactly four ounces, a weight Elias Thorne had measured against the grain of his desk. He counted the staples, seven in total, holding the document together with a mechanical indifference that mirrored the man sitting across from him. The smell of the Bureau office was sterile, a sharp chemical tang of floor wax and ozone that cut through the faint, lingering scent of...
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