The Pale Bridge
The invoice lay on the desk, the paper thin as onion skin, the total circled in red ink that seemed to vibrate against the gray laminate. Elias Thorne adjusted his glasses, the lenses fogging slightly in the cold air of the Ministry, and stared at the figure: four thousand, two hundred dollars, due by the end of the month for the completion of the Pale Bridge Index. It was a manageable sum, a...
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