The Pale Path
The certification form lay on the steel table, its edges curling slightly in the damp air of the inspection booth. Elias Thorne stared at the signature line, his pen hovering, the ink already pooling into a dark, perfect bead. He was a structural engineer, forty-two years old, and this piece of paper was the only thing standing between his pension and a lifetime of debt. The Meridian Bridge was...
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