The Faded Bouquet
The air in the foreman’s office tasted of stale tobacco and ink, a dry, scratching silence that pressed against Elias’s eardrums until they hummed. He stood before the desk, his boots caked in black dust, and watched Mr. Halloway tap a pen against a ledger with the rhythmic patience of a man counting seconds until a fuse burned out. "You want the back pay, Thorne?" Halloway asked, his voice...
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