The Golden Echoes
The letter from the Dean’s office lay on my desk, its paper thin and brittle, smelling faintly of the industrial copier that had produced it. It was a standard form, a grid of bureaucratic language that stripped the human element from the act of dismissal, telling me that my position as Assistant Archivist was subject to review due to "efficiency mandates" and "budgetary realignments." I picked...
0 Kommentare 0 Geteilt 1 Ansichten 0 Bewertungen