The Faded Dust
The pipette trembled in Elias Thorne’s grip, the glass cool and slick against his sweat-dampened palm as he attempted to seal the cap on the vial. He was forty-five, a man whose career had been built on the precise manipulation of molecular bonds, yet here, in the sterile hum of his laboratory, his hands shook with a tremor that no amount of caffeine or willpower could steady. The vial...
0 Comments 0 Shares 1 Views 0 Reviews