The Wistful Show

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2026-08-22 16:48:47 -

The Wistful Show

The light in the gilded hall of the Continental Exchange was a pale, sickly yellow, filtered through high windows that had not been cleaned in a decade. "Ashworth," a voice called out from the shadows of the mezzanine, sharp and clipped. "Ashworth, you are blocking the queue." I stepped aside, my leather shoes squeaking faintly on the polished marble. I was forty-two years old, and I had spent...

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