The Faded Shield
Mikhail Golubev held a clipboard that weighed more than his conscience, and the snow had closed the road to the university lab where his grant had expired three days prior. He stood in the courtyard of the old textile mill, now repurposed as a data processing center for the census, the iron gates frozen shut with a rime of ice that cracked under his boots like dry bone. The air smelled of wet...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews