The Pale Mist
October 12, 2024 The letter sat on the desk, the ink still wet, a stark black rectangle against the white paper. I had written it three times. The Department had denied the transfer. "Institutional integrity," the memo read, citing my recent disciplinary file. I stared at the words until they blurred. My father, Arthur, was in a coma. The doctors said his brain activity was flatlining, a slow...
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