The Distant Blade
The calipers in your hands are cold, the steel biting into the calluses of your palms as you measure the width of a hairline fracture in the concrete lobby of the Meridian Tower, a measurement that should be negligible but feels, in the grey pre-dawn light, like a wound opening across the face of the building. You are Jacob Whitlock, a structural engineer of forty-two years, and your sole,...
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