The Wistful Asylum
"You are suspended effective immediately." The words hung in the air of the small office, dry and brittle as the peeling paint on the ceiling. Mr. Halloway did not look at me. He looked at the clock on the wall, a cheap digital thing that blinked red, counting down the seconds of my employment. I sat in the visitor’s chair, the vinyl cracked and cold against my thighs, and I waited for him to...
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