The Wistful Witness
The fluorescent lights in the basement of the old Merrow Mill hummed with a frequency that Elias Thorne felt in his teeth before he heard it in his ears, a low, persistent vibration that seemed to resonate with the hollow ache in his left knee as he adjusted the laser level on the concrete slab. He was fifty-two, a structural engineer who had spent three decades ensuring that buildings did not...
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