The Wistful Dinner
The rain tapped against the glass of the observation deck, a rhythmic, metallic percussion that matched the hum of the servers below. Elias Thorne watched the water streak down the pane. It blurred the city into a smear of neon and gray. He checked his watch. 11:42 PM. The shift was ending. The others had left an hour ago, their faces pale under the blue light, their voices dropping to whispers...
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