The Distant Metropolis
The silence in the Grand Atrium of the Meridian Institute was not an absence of sound but a heavy, viscous substance, a pressurized atmosphere that pressed against the eardrums with the physical weight of unspoken apologies and unresolved guilt, a vacuum cleaner of the soul that sucked the air out of the lungs and replaced it with the metallic taste of old copper and dust. Elias Thorne stood at...
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