The Pale Fracture
The paper was thin, gray, and smelled of the damp concrete floor where it had been left for three days, a form titled NOTICE OF PERSONAL EFFECTS CONFISCATION, bearing Elias’s signature in a scrawl he no longer recognized. He held it in his left hand, the right clutching a chipped ceramic bowl to his chest, the weight of it a small, cold anchor against the rising tide of the dark dormitory at...
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