The Faded Frontier
The form was printed on heavy, cream-colored stock, the kind usually reserved for high-end stationery, yet the ink had already begun to bleed into the fibers, a brownish stain spreading from the corner where Elias Thorne had folded it three times that morning. It was a Notice of Structural Non-Compliance, issued by the Department of Urban Fluidity, and it stated in dry, bureaucratic language...
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