The Pale Bridge
"Is the ledger balanced, Elias?" The question hung in the air, sharp and cold, cutting through the dust motes that danced in the single shaft of afternoon light piercing the archive’s high window. Elias Thorne did not look up from the desk. His hands, resting on the spine of the 1984 municipal debt record, trembled. It was a fine, rapid vibration, like a plucked string that refused to settle....
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