The Wistful Silence
The laser level hummed, a thin, high-pitched whine that cut through the dust of the cellar, projecting a red line that should have been straight but instead curved like a question mark against the damp brickwork. Elias Vance counted the seconds in his head, one to ten, watching the beam waver and then snap back to a horizontal plane that defied the geometry of the room, a subtle distortion that...
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