The Pale Dance
The letter lay on the kitchen table, its ink still slightly raised from the paper, smelling of iron and cold dust. It was a notice of termination, signed by a man named Mr. Halloway, the new auditor for the estate. I read it three times, my thumb tracing the indent of the signature until the skin on my finger went raw. Halloway had arrived two days prior, a lean man with eyes that seemed to...
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