The Wistful Skyline
The crane groaned, a metallic shriek that cut through the stale air of the demolition site as it hoisted the final I-beam of the old mill into the grey sky. Elias Thorne stood at the edge of the concrete slab, his hands tucked into the pockets of a work jacket that had seen better decades, watching the steel swing into place with the slow, inevitable precision of a clockwork mechanism. He was...
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