The Faded Apartment
The suspension letter sat on the kitchen table, its edges crisp and white against the dark wood, a small, sterile object that smelled faintly of toner and bureaucratic finality. I held it by the corner, my fingers trembling not from cold, but from the sheer, mechanical weight of the words *gross negligence* and *immediate removal from duty*. Outside, the wind rattled the screen door, a dry,...
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