The Golden Farce
The audit letter lay on the kitchen table, its paper thin and gray, smelling faintly of the industrial copier that had birthed it. Elias Thorne stared at the bold red header: FINAL NOTICE OF DISCIPLINARY ACTION. He did not open it. He knew what was inside. He knew the numbers, the dates, the cold, bureaucratic language that turned a man’s life into a ledger of errors. Outside, the city of...
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