The Golden Harbor
The letter lay on the kitchen table, the paper brittle and yellowed by salt air. Elias Thorne held it under the single bare bulb, the light buzzing like a trapped fly. The stamp of the Coastal Authority was heavy, red, and final. He read the third line again, the ink smudged where his thumb had pressed too hard. The lease for Station Nine would not be renewed. The structure was deemed obsolete....
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