The Precision Game
The rain in New York didn't wash things clean; it just moved the grime from one street to another. Sarah sat in her office on the 42nd floor, watching the grey blur of the city. She was a ghost in the medical world, a surgeon whose hands were too precise and whose methods were too "holistic" for the board of directors. They had stripped her of her credentials three years ago, citing "unorthodox...
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