The Wistful Atlas
The ledger was not hidden in a safe, nor buried under floorboards, but tucked inside the false bottom of a mahogany desk, a place only my father knew. I found it on a Tuesday, three weeks after his funeral, while searching for a specific escapement wheel. The paper was yellowed, the ink faded, but the numbers were stark, undeniable. For forty years, Thorne & Sons had been falsifying the time...
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