The Wistful Voyage
The fluorescent tube above Elias’s desk flickered with a sickly, intermittent buzz, casting long, trembling shadows across the basement archives of the City Municipal Building. It was November in Chicago, the wind howling against the single, grimy window that looked out onto a brick wall, and the dampness of the concrete floor had seeped into Elias’s bones, a cold that no amount of coffee could...
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