The Faded Apartment
The rain had not stopped for three days, and the lobby of the Meridian Group smelled of wet wool and expensive, stale coffee, a scent that Elias Thorne had come to associate with the slow erosion of his own spine as he stood clutching a folder that felt heavier than his life. He was forty-five, a structural engineer with twenty years of clean records and a reputation for a steady hand, but...
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