The Distant Journey
The letter from Director Halloway lay on the workbench, its crisp white paper contrasting sharply with the dark, oil-stained oak beneath it. I held the envelope in my left hand, my fingers trembling not from the cold, but from the sheer, bureaucratic weight of the words inside. It was a rejection, of course, written in that sterile, institutional hand that stripped all humanity from the act of...
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