The Distant Affair
The fluorescent lights in the sub-basement of the Meridian Logistics Hub hummed with a frequency that felt less like sound and more like a physical pressure against the temples. It was a low, thrumming moan, the voice of the building itself, a creature of concrete and steel that breathed in cold, recycled air. Arthur Penhaligon stood before the sorting conveyor, his hands trembling not from the...
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