The Distant Journey
The zipper of the brown leather bag caught on a loose thread, a small, stubborn snag that Elias Thorne ignored as he pulled the case shut. It was a cheap bag, the kind bought at a discount counter, its corners already worn soft from years of carrying folders and forgotten lunches. He stood in the hallway of the Municipal Planning Office, the linoleum cold and slick under his shoes, and watched...
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