The Wistful Saga

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2026-08-17 21:34:10 -

The Wistful Saga

The coffee machine screamed. It was a high, thin wail. It cut through the hum of the fluorescent lights. It cut through the quiet desperation of the open-plan office. Margaret stopped. Her hand hovered over the carafe. The liquid was black. It was thick. It smelled of burnt earth and old pennies. She had been here for twenty years. She was forty-five. Her hair was turning gray at the temples....

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