Series: I took the quiet archivist position at Harland Capital in Denver hoping my past would never find me.

Part 1 Within three weeks, my daughter-in-law Bianca walked into the executive suite with a smile and a file containing my deceased son’s forged suicide [more…]

The hum of the fluorescent lights in the basement archive was the only welcome I received. After Evelyn Cross revoked my keycard, I’d been assigned [more…]

The next day, lunch break felt heavier than usual. I carried my small sandwich and apple through the gleaming glass lobby, heading for the courtyard [more…]

The annual compliance audit was looming. Normally, as the head archivist, I would be presenting a detailed overview of our historical record-keeping and data integrity [more…]

The chill of the corporate air conditioning always made my skin prickle, even on a warm Denver day. I needed a break from the sterile [more…]

Derek quickly gathered the last of his papers, his movements jerky. He didn’t sit down opposite me, but rather stood awkwardly, his gaze fixed on [more…]

Derek pulled his briefcase onto the small table, unzipping it with a practiced hand. The scent of old leather and paper filled the air. My [more…]

The walk back to Harland Capital felt like traversing a minefield. With Derek’s revelations burning in my mind, every glance, every averted eye from a [more…]

Thursday night. The building felt hollow and vast as the last of the cleaning crew finished their rounds. I was still in the basement, meticulously [more…]

I watched Bianca’s car exit the parking garage from my basement window, her tail lights disappearing into the Denver night. My heart was still pounding [more…]