The Distant Affair
The glass facade of the Sterling Insurance Building did not reflect the sky; it swallowed it. Margaret Holloway stood before the shattered remains of her office on the fourteenth floor, watching the dust settle like snow in a tomb. The air smelled of ozone and pulverized silica, a sharp, metallic tang that coated the back of her throat. For three years, she had been a cog in the machine, a...
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