The Pale Dance
The elevator in the Halloway Tower did not stop at the forty-second floor. It did not stop for anyone, really, but for Elias Thorne, the junior structural engineer who had spent the last decade staring at load-bearing calculations until the numbers blurred into a singular, hypnotic rhythm, it felt like a personal dismissal. The doors slid open with a pneumatic hiss that sounded less like...
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