The Golden Myth
The porcelain rim of the teacup had split three days prior, a fissure no wider than a hair, yet the tea within remained unnervingly still, defying the low, subterranean tremors that shook the linoleum floors of the Meridian Insurance Exchange. Elias Thorne, thirty-four years old and a senior actuary, sat alone in the dimming light of his office, his fingers wrapped around the cold handle,...
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