The Wistful Skyline
The pen scratches against the ledger, the sound a dry rasp that grates against the hum of the ventilation system, and you watch the ink bleed slightly into the paper, a dark bruise forming in the column of deductions. You are Elias Thorne, forty-two, a mid-level clerk in the Ministry of Internal Revenue, and you are waking from the same dream for the third consecutive night, a dream in which...
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