The Faded River
The chandeliers in the City Hall ballroom were heavy with crystal, refracting the warm, amber light into a thousand fractured stars that danced across the floor where Elias Thorne stood, holding a glass of champagne he had not sipped in an hour. He was fifty-two, his hair the color of dry silt, and he waited for the Mayor to speak, his heart a tight drum against his ribs, because the...
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