The Faded Paradox
The fluorescent lights of the administrative wing hummed with a low, persistent frequency that seemed to vibrate directly against Elias Thorne’s molars, a sound that had become indistinguishable from the tremor in his left hand, which he kept hidden beneath the desk’s surface like a shameful secret. At forty-five, Elias was a warden in all but name, his authority eroded not by scandal but by...
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