The Golden Visit
The glass jar sits on the desk, cracked down the middle. It is a simple thing, a mason jar filled with what used to be a vibrant, golden-hued liquid, now separated into a murky sludge and a clear, watery top. You look at it for a long time before you touch it. The air in the office is stale, recycled through vents that rattle with the rhythmic, metallic cough of the central heating system. It...
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