The Pale Tower
I, II, III The call-center floor hummed with the static of a thousand headsets, a low-frequency drone that vibrated in the teeth of every operator from the front desk to the breakroom, where the coffee machine gurgled its final, bitter sputter. I sat in row seven, column four, my hands resting on the armrests of a chair that had been reupholstered three times since the mill closed, watching the...
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