The Faded Alibi
The partner’s pen hovered over the manila folder, a black nib trembling slightly in the dry, recycled air of the boardroom, and for a long moment the only sound was the hum of the ventilation system and the distinct, sharp crack of my knuckles as I pressed them together on the mahogany table. "Mr. Thorne, we have reviewed your portfolio with great care," he said, his voice carrying the flat,...
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