The Man Who Saw the End
(V-06: New York Realism) I worked at a coffee shop on 42nd Street, the kind of place where people buy their caffeine in a rush and never look the barista in the eye. That's where I met Elias. Elias was a regular. He wore a tweed coat that had seen better decades and carried a leather briefcase that looked like it had been chewed by a dog. He didn't order coffee; he ordered hot water with a...
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