The Faded Ruin
The petition form weighed four ounces. You know this because you held it against the brass scale on your desk, the needle trembling before it settled, a small, mechanical confirmation of the object’s heft. It was a standard Ministry of Memory intake slip, Form 7-B, for the restoration of erased identities. You had filled it out in triplicate. The ink was still wet, black and heavy, smelling of...
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