The Wistful Saga
The frost on the glass is not just ice. It is a map of your failing. You know this because you have watched it for thirty years, and in the last three months, it has begun to speak to you in the language of crystallography. You are a junior actuary for the Whitmore Insurance Group, a man of forty-two with a spine that has curved slightly inward, a posture born not of weakness but of the heavy,...
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