The Tuxedo Archives


The office is tidy and uncluttered; tasteful and well lighted. The decor is mid-century modern with an occasional treasure from antiquity featured here and there: tiny bronze and terra cotta Nabatean oil lamps, Sumerian fetishes, facsimiles of baked clay tablets bearing cuneiform script. Other objects de vertu rest on rosewood bases or under glass on the desk and in bookcases. Except for a glorious Persian rug, ruby, topaz, lapis and carnelian in hue, the color scheme is muted and neutral. Dr. Esther Aalyah sits at her desk. She has a manila folder in front of her. There are colored tags earmarking documents: points of reference, and points of interest. She flips through the pages; makes notes; the occasional "um" or "hmm" escapes her lips. She glances at her watch, a clock chimes three times. She looks up towards the door. There’s a discrete knock.


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