The Wistful Silence
The elevator doors slide open with a pneumatic sigh, and you step onto the fourteenth floor of the Meridian Tower, your left knee a dull, throbbing drumbeat that keeps time with the fluorescent hum of the corridor. You are wearing a suit that fits you too well, tailored to hide the tremor in your hands, and you carry a tablet that holds the fate of three hundred lives in its glass back. The air...
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