The Pale Banner
The letter sat on the desk, the ink still wet in the creases of the folded paper. It was a standard form, B-14, Request for Transfer, and the rejection was stamped in red block letters across the bottom: DENIED. Elias Thorne read it twice, then a third time, his thumb rubbing the rough edge of the paper until the fibers felt like sandpaper against his skin. He was thirty-four years old, and he...
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