The Faded Attic
The champagne glasses clinked with a sound like breaking bones, a sharp, brittle noise that cut through the low hum of the workshop’s new ventilation system. Elias Thorne stood at the center of the chaos, his apron stained with brass filings and grease, watching the city councilmen drift between the workbenches like sharks in a tank of gold. He needed this commission, the Grand Meridian Clock...
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