The Wistful Saga
The air in the Meridian Insurance Bureau’s seventh-floor office always tasted of wet chalk and old paper, a dampness that seemed to seep from the very pores of the drywall, clinging to the edges of my desk where I spent my final months calculating the precise actuarial value of human mortality. I was forty-two, a senior actuary with twenty years of service, and my singular, desperate goal was...
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