The Golden Circuit
The wind screamed through the vents. I gripped the railing. My hands shook. The metal was cold. It bit into my skin. I did not let go. Below, the city slept. It was a sea of dark glass and neon veins. We were high up. Too high. The helicopter door was open. The rotor wash hit my face. It pushed me back. I fought it. I held on. This was the job. I knew the rules. I had signed the contract. I had...
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