The Pale Dance
Act I "You can’t just stop the ink, Hai Song. The deficit is real." Director Lin did not look up from his desk. The air in his office smelled of damp wool and the sharp, metallic tang of fresh toner. I stood by the door, my left hand resting on the wood, trembling with a rhythm that felt like a pulse in a dead vein. "If I correct the entry, the audit fails. If the audit fails, my tenure is...
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