The Faded Attic
The inspector’s pen hovered over the clipboard, the tip trembling slightly against the paper. "I cannot certify this space, Mr. Thorne." Elias Thorne stood in the doorway of the attic, his hand still resting on the cold, damp wood of the eaves. He was forty-two, a structural engineer whose body felt less like a vessel and more like a series of compromised joints, each one a reminder of the...
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