The Wistful Incense
The ink in the well on Elias Thorne’s desk had dried into a crust of black glass, a residue of four hours spent counting the discrepancies in the final claim file for the deceased clerk, a task that required weighing every line item against the company’s rigid actuarial tables until the numbers balanced or the man broke. He was forty years old, a senior actuary at the Blackwood Insurance...
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