The Pale Bonsai
The air in the basement archives of Halloway & Thorne Insurance never smelled of dust, despite the thousands of boxes stacked to the ceiling; instead, it carried a persistent, cloying scent of rotting mint that seemed to originate from the walls themselves, a cold draft that moved only when you were not looking directly at it. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two years old, a mid-level actuary whose...
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