The Pale Meridian
"Did you check the ledger again?" Elias asked, his voice low, barely rising above the hum of the radiator that clanked in the corner of the cramped office. The question hung in the dry, heated air, a challenge he knew he could not win. He was forty-two years old, and his hands, once steady enough to trace the coastline of continents in ink so fine it seemed to vanish on the page, now trembled...
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