The Distant Promise
The transfer order lay on the mahogany desk, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the archives. Elias Thorne stared at the document, his fingers hovering over the signature line, refusing to touch the paper as if it were coated in grease. The room smelled of mildew and old ink, a scent that had settled into the pores of his skin over the past six months. He was a junior clerk, a man of...
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