The Golden Downtown
The reflection in the office mirror moved a half-second after Elias Thorne did. It was a subtle lag, barely perceptible, like watching a video with a slight delay, but it was there, persistent as a tick in a clock. Elias, forty-two and wearing a suit that had seen better decades, stared at the glass while he signed the intake form for claim number 8940. The paper was cheap, the ink smudged, and...
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