The Faded Frequency
The rejection notice lay on my desk, a single sheet of white paper that seemed to absorb the grey light of the office. It was dated March twentieth, signed by Mr. Vance in his precise, angular script, and it stated that my final actuarial report contained a systemic error. I read it twice, the cold air from the vent drying the sweat on my upper lip, and then I looked at my left hand, which lay...
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