The Wistful Voyage
The ledger was open to page four hundred and twelve, the ink still wet on the column for premiums. Elias Thorne counted the entries with a dry thumb, moving from the top of the page to the bottom, a rhythmic friction that soothed the ache in his lower back. He had been at this desk for nine years, calculating the odds of death in a city of eight million people, and he knew the weight of a...
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