The Distant Metropolis
The invoice lay on the wet concrete of the checkpoint floor, a stark white rectangle against the dark, muddied earth, its black ink smudging slightly where the rain had begun to seep into the paper’s fibers. Elias Thorne stared at the line item for his mother’s dialysis, the numbers blurred not by the water but by the crushing, physical weight of the debt that had settled into his bones over...
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