The Wistful Silence
The termination order lay on the desk, a stark white rectangle against the dark mahogany. Your finger hovered over the signature line, the ink in the pen dry and brittle. You had been an archivist for twenty years, a functionary of dust and silence, but the paper felt heavier than any ledger you had ever balanced. The door opened without a knock. Director Halloway entered, his footsteps silent...
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