The Daily Grind
Mara stared at the flickering neon sign above her café, its once-vibrant letters now dimmed by years of neglect. The scent of burnt coffee beans lingered in the air, mingling with the faint tang of mildew from the cracked window.…
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The Algorithm’s Shadow
The air in Harbor’s End hung heavy with salt and diesel, the kind of brine that clung to your skin long after you left the docks. Mira Voss stepped off the bus, her boots crunching over gravel as she scanned…