The Wistful Dinner
The letter lay on the workbench, the ink still damp where the seal had been broken. Elias Thorne read the words twice, his thumb tracing the indentation of the wax. It was a notice of termination, effective immediately, citing "gross negligence in field data acquisition." The paper smelled of sulfur and old paper, a scent that clung to the back of his throat. He folded it into a tight square...
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