The Architect's Ghost
(Style B1: New York Realism) From my desk in the outer office, I could see the back of Mr. Sterling's head. He didn't move much; he sat like a statue carved from ice, staring at the blueprints of a city he intended to redesign in his own image. I had been Sterling's secretary for five years. I was the one who filtered the calls, managed the bribes, and scrubbed the blood off the contracts. To...
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