The Wistful Skyline
The hum of the server room was a physical weight, a low-frequency vibration that settled in Elias’s teeth and settled deeper into the marrow of his bones. He sat in his ergonomic chair, the mesh backing cool against his sweat-damp shirt, staring at the triple-monitor array that reflected his own hollow eyes. The date on the corner of the screen blinked: October 14th. The air conditioning cycled...
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