The Wistful Dinner
The rain against the window of the Meridian Insurance Exchange is not a sound but a texture, a gritty, persistent friction that grates against the glass and, by extension, against the nerves of Elias Thorne, who sits in the office of the man who used to own this desk, this chair, this specific shade of beige wall. It is November, the air in the city thick with coal smoke and the damp chill of...
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