The Faded Sutra
The form is in triplicate, Sergeant. Elias Thorne held the paper up to the grey light filtering through the office window, the ink still wet and smelling of iron and pine oil. He was forty-five years old, and his left knee had begun to grind against the cold floorboards like a millstone losing its water. "I am submitting my resignation, Elder Halloway. Effective immediately. I need the pension....
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