The Wistful Grid
14th October, 1912 The ledger has collapsed, Elias, and with it, the fragile architecture of my life within these walls. You will remember how I spoke to you last week, in hushed tones over the cold tea, of the discrepancies in the grain shipments; I told you I suspected a pattern, a slow bleed of integrity that the senior clerks chose to ignore in favor of their bonuses. I was wrong to speak...
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