The Wistful Dinner
Seven hundred and forty-two hours. That is how long Elias Thorne had spent in the basement archives of the Federal Bureau of Investigation, counting the seconds between the hum of the ventilation fans and the silence that followed. He was thirty-four years old, a man whose body felt less like a vessel and more like a worn-out tool, the joints grinding with a low, persistent ache that sleep no...
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