The Wistful Voyage
The eviction order was read in a voice that had no temperature, a flat recitation of numbers and clauses that seemed to bounce off the glass partitions of the municipal office without leaving a mark. Elias Thorne sat at his workbench, his hands still stained with the black grease of mainsprings, and watched the junior clerk, a young man with a name tag that read P. Vane, refuse to meet his...
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