The Phase Transition of Cornelius Harrington
The pressure inside Cornelius Harrington had been building for eleven years. Not the kind of pressure that shows on an abacus or appears on a balance sheet, but the kind that lives in the space between one decision and the next, accumulating like steam in a boiler whose safety valve has been rusted shut by neglect. He was forty-two years old and sat in his office on the forty-third floor of the...
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