The Wistful Cipher
The rain on the windshield was not merely water; it was a memory trying to wash itself clean. Elias Thorne sat in the driver’s seat of his rental sedan, the engine idling with a low, rhythmic hum that sounded suspiciously like a heartbeat. He was a man of middling years, employed by a minor insurance firm in London, a life defined by the quiet accumulation of paperwork and the silent erosion of...
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