The Wistful Skyline
The fluorescent lights in Conference Room 4B hummed with a frequency that seemed to drill directly into Elias Thorne’s temples, a low, persistent vibration that matched the hollow ache in his chest. Director Miller stood at the head of the table, his hands clasped tightly behind his back, his posture rigid with the kind of performative neutrality that Elias had learned to despise over three...
0 Σχόλια 0 Μοιράστηκε 1 Views 0 Προεπισκόπηση