Two days later, I sat across from my friend and colleague, Mark, at a small café near the office. « You’re not going to believe this, » I said, sliding the hunting license across the table. He picked it up, eyebrows raised.
« You? Hunting? » he chuckled, then paused as he realized I wasn’t joking. « Wait, you’re serious? »
« Dead serious, » I replied, recounting my visit to the Department and the unsettling discovery of the online application.
Mark leaned back, his expression turning thoughtful. « Could someone have hacked your account? »
« Maybe, » I conceded, though the idea seemed far-fetched. « But who would go through all that trouble just to get me a hunting license? »
Mark shrugged. « Maybe it’s a prank? »
I shook my head, frustration mounting. « It just doesn’t make any sense, » I muttered, staring out the window as pedestrians hurried by, oblivious to the turmoil inside me.
The conversation shifted to work, but my mind lingered on the mystery. That evening, I resolved to dig into my online account history, hoping for some clue that would shed light on the situation.
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