The Wistful Mirror
The memo from the Director’s office lay on the workbench, its ink still drying under the harsh glare of the kerosene lamp. It was a standard disciplinary warning, signed in that looping, indifferent hand that had ruined so many careers, but the clause about "gross negligence" made Elias Thorne’s stomach turn. He folded the paper into a tight square and placed it in his breast pocket, where it...
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