The Wistful Cipher

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2026-08-17 22:28:14 -

The building was a tomb of glass and steel, and the air inside tasted of recycled ozone and old fear. I sat in the corner of the intake room, my hands folded in my lap, fingers white-knuckled against my jeans. Across from me, Margaret Holloway adjusted her glasses. She was a woman of precise angles, her hair pulled back so tightly it seemed to pull at her skin, erasing any softness that might...

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