The Distant Affair
The beam was wrong, Elias noted, tapping the varnish with a flat-head screwdriver. It was not the grain that concerned him, but the angle, a subtle shear that defied the original load calculations from 1924. He stood alone in the hollowed-out shell of the Victorian estate, the silence pressing against his eardrums with a physical weight that made his teeth ache. The mortgage deadline was three...
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