The Pale Fracture
The air in the Ministry of Historical Correction was always cold, a deliberate chill designed to keep the blood thin and the mind sharp, and you stood before the desk of Director Ashworth, the weight of your thesis pressing against your ribs like a second, heavier heart. "Sentimentality is a disease," Ashworth said, not looking up from the document. His voice was dry, scraped clean of any human...
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