The Pale Shadows
The champagne in my glass had gone flat, a dull, fizzy lie that matched the mood of the Meridian Insurance Company’s annual gala. It was 1912, and the air in the ballroom was thick with the scent of expensive perfume and the unspoken tension of men watching their careers evaporate. I stood near the pillar, thirty years old, a mid-level actuary, holding my promotion to Senior Underwriter in my...
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