The Faded Frontier
The letter lay on the mahogany table, its seal broken, the paper thin and yellowed as old skin. Dr. Elias Thorne read it twice, the ink blurring slightly where his thumb had pressed the edge. It was a bill, from the mine company, for the last three months of his consulting fees, deducted by fifty percent for "experimental downtime." He folded it into a square, a small, sharp artifact of debt,...
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