THE THROAT

847 complaints. Zero repairs. Kal Afzal enters the service shaft of a tower block the system says is safe. Twenty-four inches wide. The inspection should take two hours. It takes seven. The walls are warm. The shaft tightens. Sixty-four years of evidence surfaces — fake certificates, ignored complaints, and a young mother who called seventeen times about burning plastic. No one came. She is dead. Her voicemail is in the walls. The building is not haunted by ghosts. It is haunted by paperwork.

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