The Wistful Saga
The fire had been out for three days, but the smell of burnt paper and ozone still hung heavy in the air of the Meridian Insurance building, a cloying sweetness that coated the back of Elias Thorne’s throat. He sat at his desk on the fourteenth floor, the senior actuary’s chair creaking under his weight, his hands encased in thick, yellow rubber gloves that made him look less like a man and...
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