The Faded Masquerade
The Ledger lay open on my desk, its pages crisp and white, the ink wet and dark. I watched the date in the margin, December 21st, 1912, and felt the cold seep through the soles of my shoes. It was a simple entry, a line of red text that matched my own handwriting, though I had not written it. My name, Elias Thorne, followed by the word "Dismissed." I had been a senior actuary for twenty years,...
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