The Faded Guest
The ceramic mug was chipped near the handle, a jagged tear where the glaze had failed years ago. Elias Thorne held it with both hands, the heat seeping into his palms, a small, persistent comfort against the sterile chill of the Penitentiary 9 cafeteria. He was forty-two, a senior auditor for the Federal Bureau of Prisons, and in six months he would be Regional Director. That was the plan. That...
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