The Wistful Incense
The fire started in the basement archive, and by the time Elias Thorne reached the main floor, the smell of burning paper was a physical weight against his lungs. He was forty years old, an archivist of modest reputation, and in that moment, the only thing he wanted was to secure the pension that would keep his wife, Clara, alive for another month. The opposing force was not the fire, but the...
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