The Wistful Throne
The envelope was cream-colored, thick as a wad of old receipts, and Elias Thorne held it against the fluorescent light of the archive until the paper turned translucent, revealing the faint, jagged handwriting inside. It was a letter from the Board of Trustees, dated three days prior, and the single line at the bottom was a verdict: tenure denied, effective immediately. He had read it twice in...
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