The Golden Scar
The pen was a standard issue, black plastic, the cap slightly cracked from years of being dropped on tile floors, and Elias Thorne held it in his left hand while his right gripped the edge of the mahogany desk until the knuckles turned the color of old bone. The light in Director Halloway’s office was flat and sourceless, a hum that seemed to come from the walls themselves, casting no shadows...
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